


Paved With Good Intentions

by Aishuu, Surefall



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Multi, no amount of warnings can cover this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/pseuds/Aishuu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surefall/pseuds/Surefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirihara and Sengoku start what could be a divine war while fighting over the corruption of a college math class, dragging in other devils, angels and mortals in a manipulative scheme that involves lust, sex, Machiavellian plots and alcohol. Of course, that's only what the angels are up to...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Devil and an Angel Walk Into a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> Crack fic at its most devilish. Let's take the horrid cliché of making the boys angels and devils and pump it full of semi-plotful sugar. Stir well.

_Part One: A Devil and an Angel Walk Into a Bar_

Being a demon sucked when your mission forced you to enroll in college mathematics. Kirihara Akaya normally would have been falling asleep in math class, since it reminded him too much of home -- it was boring as Hell. However, the presence of another divine being danced along his senses, and it was impossible for him to relax enough to snooze.

Looking over his shoulder every five minutes or so was an angel, and it was all Kirihara could do not to call down lightning or find a telemarketer to plague the annoying creature.

Math was clearly designed by god. All the inner workings, the simplification of equations, the true delight of discovering that even irrational numbers had a part in the grand design of electricity... Sengoku was more than pleased to be assigned to this particular mission. Who knew college could be so interesting?

Not to mention there was this demon sitting _right_ in front of him who happened to have all the notes scribbled on the pages resting just beneath his sleeping head. Sengoku grinned and leaned farther forward to copy a few of the middle lines.

Kirihara gritted his teeth, reminding himself not to blow his cover by summoning a plague. Around them, class continued at a low throb, unaware of the minor divine conflict that was taking place.

"Could you tilt your head to the left?" Sengoku asked.

Kirihara deliberately moved his head to the right.

That worked, too. Sengoku scribbled industriously.

Kirihara gritted his teeth before leaning back to stretch, in the process knocking Sengoku's hand and causing the angel to draw a huge line through his somewhat neat notes.

 _Dyam_. There was a scrubbing sound as Sengoku picked up his eraser and started rubbing out what he could of the line. He reached over when he was done and tugged on a lock of Kirihara's hair, "What do you say?"

"Let go, you bastard!" he hissed, "or else I'll make you say some things you never imagined would pass your lips."

"Really?" Sengoku was intrigued. "What would those be?" He tugged on the silken, black lock again, curling it around a finger.

Kirihara's arm swung around and caught Sengoku across the face, his natural instincts finally letting loose. The loud "crack" echoed through the room, and the hundred-odd students and one professor stared at them in horror. Next to them, Kamio Akira looked at them with scorn, while Saeki Kojiroh just seemed amused - even though Sengoku had been pushed into his lap.

"Ouch," happened to be Sengoku's brilliant reply to getting smacked hard enough to go sprawling between the seats. An arm waved into view, "I'm okay!" He flashed a thumbs up at Saeki before clambering over his sorta-friend to get back to his seat, rubbing his reddening cheek a little. It would figure that he would have to get hit by a demon instead of a human... this one was going to leave a bruise.

"That wasn't very nice," he informed Kirihara.

"You expect me to be?" Kirihara asked in disbelief. As surely as he'd recognized Sengoku, Sengoku must have recognized him. He didn't think Sengoku was one of those "believe the best in everyone!" angels like Ohtori Choutarou, but he could be wrong.

"Well, no... but one hopes you would keep up a nice face in front of, yanno, the class," Sengoku replied. One got the feeling he meant to say 'mortals' instead of 'class.' It would seem this particular demon was bit unrestrained. Really, he had expected better considering the last representative of evil he encountered had been Fuji.

"Speaking of the class..." a third voice inserted chillingly, and the two divine beings were forced away from their conversation to look up into the implacable eyes of the professor. Sakaki Tarou was a tall man, and had Kirihara not known better, he would have sworn that he was a higher-ranking power for one of their sides instead of a mere mortal.

"Eh heh heh ... " Sengoku rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Oops?" He was forced to agree with Kirihara. Some humans were very scary, especially when they started to stare at the two of them with an especially evil eye. Decidedly ominous.

Sakaki, ignoring the rules of personal space, quietly shut both of their notebooks for them. "I suggest you find somewhere else to continue this discussion. The next time this happens, you won't be allowed to return."

No more math? He was crushed! Sengoku shot Kirihara a sharp look out of the corner of his eye. Next time, the demon was going to get his mouth duct taped. Tossing a glance at Saeki that said 'take notes for me,' Sengoku calmly gathered up his books and bowed to Sakaki, "Yes, sir."

Kirihara could have frankly cared less about missing math class, but many of the people who'd he decided on dragging down into the delights of evil were in said class. He'd pinned about twenty good candidates, and being denied access would be extremely annoying. "Fine, fine," he muttered.

The path from Sengoku's seat to the doors was filled with idle thoughts of why Kirihara, a demon, would be doing something constructive like actually attending class. Most demons sent to a college were more of the party type, seduction through 'far too much fun.' Kirihara didn't fall quite so neatly into that category. Tilting his head thoughtfully, Sengoku pushed the door open and slipped out into the hallway.

Kirihara, trailing close behind, was caught between a rock and a hard place. Now that he had the angel alone, he was obligated to either try to seduce him or destroy him. He was sure, however, that the students would notice any hell hounds he let loose, and he didn't like Sengoku enough to try to seduce him. It would be downright distasteful.

Sengoku tossed a grin over his shoulder at Kirihara, "Did you want to go somewhere so you can take a couple pot shots at me?"

"How about a quick trip to hell?" Kirihara suggested brightly.

"Really? Can we visit Fuji-kun?"

Kirihara blinked. "You know Fuji?" he asked, a bit taken aback. It was natural enough; an angel on good enough terms to call the Lord of Evil "Fuji-kun" was something he'd never heard of before.

Sengoku wagged a hand, "Who doesn't know of Fuji?" No one said that he was on good terms, per se... but Fuji did happen to be a very good conversationalist and was the man to go to for the witty stab in the back. There was never a dull moment when facing off against Fuji.

"Anyone who wants to remain pure and virtuous?" Kirihara returned. He stared at Sengoku in amazement, unsure of exactly what kind of angel he had on his hands.

Angels, to his mind, were all dreadfully alike. There were the innocent ones, like Ohtori (who really had no clue about anything except the Greater Good); the redeemed ones who never stopped angsting over their past sins, like Shishido (one of the top-ten wanted traitors, because before he'd repented, he'd been high on Hell's ladder); the holier-than-thou ones like Tezuka (someone needed to corrupt him, but word was out that Fuji considered Tezuka a personal project) and the sweet ones, like Yukimura. He'd never heard of an insane angel before.

"Who wants to remain pure and virtuous? It sounds like too much effort," Sengoku replied with a grin. There was nothing quite like holding a discussion with a demon about the merits of virtue and purity.

This was just too damn easy, Kirihara thought. He'd never tempted an angel into sin before, but this would be like taking candy from a child (a favorite past-time). "Really? Then are you up for a trip to the bar tonight? I'll buy you a drink, and we'll forget about this little incident," he suggested.

Sengoku nodded amicably, "Sounds good. I knew you were a sweet 'un. Where do you wanna go?"

* * *

It definitely wasn't a place a person would ever expect to see an angel, but that was exactly why Oishi Syuuchirou was there. The bar, known simply as The Lounge, was a popular place for students from the nearby university to hang out. Its business tended to ebb and flow along with the main testing schedules.

Oishi had taken a job as a bartender right before the most recent session of classes, posing as a graduate student who was taking a semester off the earn more money. His assignment, one Ibu Shinji, drank too much for anyone's comfort, and more than once he'd been required to pour the boy into a cab to make sure he'd get safely home.

Still, Oishi loved his job, because there were so many people who he could help with just a word or an indication that someone cared. A bar really was better than a psychologist's office, since people expected the bartender to be a free counselor.

The Lounge was Ibu Shinji's lair of choice, well, any day at all lately. School was the pits, though it hadn't always been. Home was the pits, which was actually to be expected. His love life... his _love_ life... that was a whole another story all together. For that he needed another beer before he felt capable of tackling it.

Oozing low on his seat, Shinji pushed a bit of money across the counter and mumbled a brief, "One more beer, Oishi-san... not that I really need a beer... but it has a lovely taste and makes the world seem so much nicer... there's a lot of annoying people out there, yanno. I can't stand anyone, not a one of them, especially not that one that really annoys me, you know the one..."

Oishi could tell that Shinji still wasn't completely drunk, as his words still were slurred. Beer seemed to have an inverse relationship with Shinji's speaking abilities -- the more he drank, the more elucidate his speech became.

"Just one," Oishi warned as he drew a foaming pint, even though he didn't really have the heart to cut anyone off. If they really felt the need to drink that badly, well, it would be mean to stop them.

That happened to be why Shinji kept coming back to The Lounge. Oishi could be trusted to only make lip motions when standing between Shinji and his much needed liquor. Shinji could handle that, it was pretty easy to just ignore Oishi when the time came to drink himself under the table.

Shinji pulled the glass close and sucked the foam off the top, licking his lips with a certain satisfaction. He lifted the glass in cheers to Oishi and took a long swallow, thumping it back down on the bar hard enough to make it slosh over the sides. He didn't care really, he could always buy another beer.

Oishi sighed, knowing he would have to clean up the mess. "Ibu-san... do you want to talk about it?" he asked, staring at what was a once immaculately clean bar.

Shinji blinked owlishly and managed a succinct, "No," before taking another long swallow.

Which really meant "yes." Shinji hadn't rambled at the end of his answer, so he was about drunk enough for Oishi's purposes. "Are things okay with your roommate?" Oishi said gently, knowing he was about to unleash a flood.

Shinji thumped his pint just to thump something since something needed to be thumped. It was that or thump An, the no good two bit _bitch_ who was -- Shinji scowled sullenly at Oishi, "Things are just fine. Kamio and I are getting along just fine."

Oishi felt like he was slamming his angelic head into a wall. Talking to Shinji was like dealing with a wounded lion, and he knew that it would probably be a while before the boy was ready to open up to him. Laying the groundwork now would be beneficial later, but he felt like he was waltzing on a tightrope. One wrong move, and... well, it wouldn't be pretty.

"That's good. If... if you do need to talk to someone, let me know, okay? You don't even have to buy any-- "

Oishi's words were interrupted by the sound of the bar door slamming open, and two extremely loud creatures wandering in.

Shinji craned his head to glance over his shoulder, only to recognize those two guys who had made the disturbance in math class that day. "Hmph. They're always so loud... don't they know people are trying to drink in here?" he mumbled, hunching more firmly over his beer in case they tried to steal it. One could never tell with Sengoku and Kirihara.

Sengoku waved madly at Oishi from the doorway as he trotted inside, "Oishi-san! It's been ages! I want something tastelessly American!" With that demand in place, he plopped down at the bar two seats from Shinji, tactically ignoring his presence.

Oishi stared in alarm at Sengoku and Kirihara. Whenever an angel and devil associated, it only led to trouble, and usually heartbreak. However, with Shinji present, he couldn't say anything that would disclosed their secrets. "You saw me yesterday," Oishi said lamely, unable to think of anything else to say that wouldn't be a dead-giveaway.

Kirihara squinted at Oishi like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "What are you doing here?" he asked rudely.

"Well, it felt like ages," Sengoku responded blithely. Shinji just muttered something rude into his cup about Sengoku and horrifying taste in drinks, not to mention manners.

Oishi was unable to take his eyes off the demon. "I... I..." he stuttered, feeling thrown off balance. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by one of Hell's minions, because that would invariably lead to problems he just didn't want to deal with -- one problem in particular.

"Get me some tequila, and leave the bottle," Kirihara ordered. His eyes danced wickedly. "Oishi-san," he drawled the angel's name, making it quite clear that he'd recognized him.

"He recognizes you and not me, I feel so unloved!" Sengoku mourned with drama, looping an arm around Kirihara's shoulders, "But we'll get to know each other real well, won't we?" Sengoku smiled at him brilliantly, while idly wondering if there was a way to erase Oishi from Kirihara's memory so he wouldn't lose the best bartender he ever had. Probably couldn't be done. Alas. He wept for his loss.

"Oh, quite well," Kirihara returned.

Oishi stared at the two, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. This was so many shades of not good. "Sengoku-san..." he started, but was distracted by the sight of Shinji rising clumsily to his feet and making for the restroom. "Oh, dear." Oishi scurried after him.

"I can go to the bathroom myself, Oishi-san," Shinji grumped, shutting the door firmly in Oishi's face.

Since Oishi had neglected to produce the liquor, Sengoku merrily slithered over the bar and began picking through the bottles, holding them up at random to peer at the liquid within. "I think this is tequila," he said and plunked a bottle in front of Kirihara.

Kirihara took a sip of it cautiously, and the throat-scalding liquor made him wince. "You idiot! That's vodka!" Despite his protest, he continued to drink. With his earthly body, it was hard to get drunk, but that never stopped him from trying.

"Details, details. It's all liquid rot anyway." With this unpleasant observation, Sengoku shook up a mix of grenadine, jack, and coke before pouring it in a tall glass for his personal consumption. He knocked the glass back and thumped it back down on the counter with a satisfied, "Ahh!"

"Sengoku! Get out from there!" Oishi yelled from across the room, bringing all eyes to the redhead.

Sengoku blinks his patented 'who me?' look while pointing at himself, "But Oishi-san... "

"Are you even going to pay this time? Do you know how big your tab has gotten?" Oishi sounded thoroughly harassed, and not about to buy the "cute l'il ol' me" act. The sound of Shinji being sick and his inability to help him made Oishi irritable.

"Pay? What is this pay you speak of?" Sengoku slid out of reach, and back over the bar to sit behind Kirihara, using him as a shield.

"Sengoku-senpai..." Oishi started, seeming about ready to strangle the redhead but unable to because of his inherently gentle nature.

Sengoku grinned, "Kirihara is going to pay!"

"I am not!" Kirihara protested.

"Yes, you are. Because then I'm going to owe you, right?" Sengoku batted his eyelashes.

The idea of Sengoku owing him was just too much to resist, and Kirihara smiled at Oishi. "I'll pay off his bar tab," he volunteered easily.

"Um, Sengoku, are you sure?" Oishi asked hesitantly. A heavenly debt wasn't something to enter into lightly, and it seemed like Sengoku was about to let Kirihara put a down payment on his soul for some booze.

Sengoku smiled a smile at the back of Kirihara's head that indicated that Kirihara has no clue what he was about to be getting into. So easy. So very, very easy. Sengoku turned the smile on Oishi, "Ahh, but who am I to stand in the way of someone paying off my tab out of the goodness of his heart?"

"If he had any goodness in his heart, it'd be different!" Oishi exclaimed. "But -- "

Kirihara merely cocked an eyebrow, enjoying the angel's imminent breakdown.

"Everyone has a little bit of goodness in their heart, Oishi-kun. I'm just deciding to take it all right now," was the blithe reply.

Kirihara smirked. Of course he had no goodness in his heart -- he was a minion of evil. "Get the tab, and I'll pay," he ordered Oishi.

Sengoku smiled encouragement at Oishi before glomping onto Kirihara's arm and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, "Thanks ever so much, sweetie pie!"

Kirihara was hard-pressed not to hurt him. He was even more hard-pressed when he saw the size of the bill -- but he figured it was a good investment, and was Fuji always saying that most of the work was done in preparation?

* * *

Hell was a terrible place, unless you worked there.

For the demons, it was all about having a good time, and Niou Masaharu knew better than most what a good time was. When he wasn't screwing his partner, he was tormenting souls. He loved playing mind games with them and making them miserable, because that was just the way he was. He was also very, very good at his job. On his last performance evaluation, he'd scorned Infernally, the highest grade a demon could get.

Yagyuu Hiroshi slid into the room with all the stealth of smoke - which is pretty stealthy when you think about it, but has a tendency to leave this _smell_ \- and pushed his glasses up his nose out of habit. It wasn't really a room and they weren't really glasses, but for the simplicity of discussion and the avoidance of trying to explain the metaphysical, we'll say that they were. "Guess who just came back to Hell."

Niou thought of all the demons he knew on assignment currently, and only one name would have warranted this response from his lover. "Kirihara?" he asked, trying to contain his delight.

Yagyuu's glasses glinted. It was a precise science getting them to glint just so with the red light, but Yagyuu was and had always been a master of such things. "None other."

Niou sat down in a chair which appeared under his ass as soon as he needed it. Crossing his legs, he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, isn't that interesting? I wonder what our little prodigy has been up to?"

Yagyuu produced the relevant list, "Spending a substantial amount of his requisitioned yen."

"Oh, hooo.... are you going to give him more?" Niou asked. Yagyuu was the one who'd kept Hell's books for the last couple of centuries, and he was a notorious tightwad.

"Depends on if it was a justified expenditure," was the smooth reply. Yagyuu did not consider himself a tightwad; he considered himself to be an excellent manager of limited resources in a realm where self-control was considered to be a trait of the enemy. Frankly, Hell needed him more than Heaven.

"He's screwed," Niou murmured, relishing the thought. As much as he liked Kirihara, he would enjoy watching the youngster squirm.

Kirihara was Hell's prodigy, on the fast-track to replacing one of the great demons who had managed to get exorcised by a miko about twenty years ago. The brat was less than a millennium old, but already he had wracked up an impressive record of damned souls to his credit. Rumor had it that Fuji intended to promote him within the next century or so.

Not feeling it necessary to reply to such an obvious statement, Yagyuu slipped from in front of the desk to behind it so he could look out the just-appearing window. "He should be here shortly. I took the liberty of inviting Kikumaru as well."

Kirihara's message had been vague on the matter of Kikumaru Eiji's presence during his little visit. Something about 'best news' and 'he owes me one' that seemed to have gotten scrambled in translation between Hell and Earth. Yagyuu made a mental note to speak with the Damned Operators about getting a proper connection established. This slipshod work was costing them money... _money..._

Niou was disgruntled. Kikumaru was not one of his favorite demons to deal with, simply because he had the attention span of a gnat. Every now and then, Niou almost saw someone worth his time, but then that would fade away behind a bubbly exterior. The only thing they had in common was their sheer enjoyment of their jobs -- Kikumaru was one of the best incubi Hell had. Niou had never known him to fail in a seduction -- even if it took centuries.

As if speaking of him had summoned his presence (and considering his nature, it might have very well had), Kikumaru Eiji appeared -- but in tow with him was hell's other prodigy, Echizen Ryoma.

Eiji smirked, waved, and without further ado threw himself into a seat that barely had time to appear before he hit it. "Kikumaru Eiji reporting for service!" A tail waved in the air in a form of address that was both rude and sensual. Eiji was known for forgetting that the human form was lacking such extra appendages, but then again, sometimes it paid to be an incubus with multiple little extras.

Echizen, now released from Eiji's vice-like grip, adjusted his cap, which was as much a part of him as Yagyuu's glasses, but not as schway looking -- in Yagyuu's personal and brutally honest, but also horribly biased opinion. "Why did you drag me here, Kikumaru-senpai?"

Eiji ignored him, grinning behind a paw. The reason was most likely going to be walking through the door shortly.

"Kikumaru, his presence here is going to be disruptive," Niou warned, then tossed the red head a wicked grin. "Quite a good idea."

The tail wriggled with glee, "You doubted me, Niou-san?"

"Usually," Niou admitted. He rarely bothered lying since the truth was so much more tormenting.

"Niou-san is so cruel!" Eiji made a face, though he smirked to himself. He expected nothing else from Hell's Infernally best.

Echizen was just a lava drip away from being justifiably annoyed. Did his senpai do nothing except give each other verbal blow jobs? Or in some cases, actual blow jobs, he thought, casting a sly glance at Yagyuu, who was glinting in the light from the window.

A smart-ass comment from the youngest demon was averted by the door swinging open, admitting Kirihara. Blinking, he stared at the gathering before his eyes narrowed on his number one rival. "Get out," he ordered Echizen.

"No," was the brief and to the point reply.

Kirihara jumped forward to forcibly remove the brat, but Niou caught him by the hair, rudely throwing him across the room so he landed on Kikumaru, who squawked angrily. "Where do you think you're going, junior?" he asked.

Kirihara's eyes were spitting fire as he swore, making his seniors laugh.

There was nothing to be done except _smirk_ at Kirihara, which was exactly what Echizen decided to do. That and hold his head up higher and eye his elders with somewhat less annoyance.

Eiji, once past his initial anger, was finding a vast supply of entertainment in feeling his new chairmate up. "It's so nice of you to drop by, Akaya-kun."

Kirihara ignored where Eiji's hands were going from long experience. "If you don't behave, I won't tell you my news," he taunted the incubus.

Eiji considered this, "Is it good news?"

Yagyuu lifted his expenditure list, "Frankly, I would like the news on why you felt it necessary to spend this much money."

"Hey! My news first!" Eiji snapped, waving his paws, and coincidentally freeing poor Kirihara.

Kirihara agilely rolled off, and produced a chair of his own. Unfortunately, he was right in Niou's reach, and Niou grabbed him in a headlock. "Spill it, junior, we're curious!" he demanded.

Kirihara howled as Niou started to give him a noogie. "Alright! Alright! Lemme go first!" he yelled, trying to land an elbow in Niou's midsection and failing abysmally.

"Kikumaru-senpai is molesting your Fallen, Niou-senpai," Echizen observed, watching with more than a little amusement as Eiji decided that waving his paws at Yagyuu wasn't sufficient enough encouragement to let him have his way and switches to pounce-and-feel-him-up instead. Let it never be said that Kikumaru Eiji was _subtle._

It wasn't that Echizen feels like helping his rival by distracting his tormentor. Not at all. He just didn't want to watch Hell's Incubus molest Hell's Accountant. There was some scarring he just didn't need. And it meant that Kirihara was going to owe him.

Niou let Kirihara go, rising to his feet to grab Kikumaru by the tail. "I seduced him first," he said dangerously. "Remember what I said the last time you tried to grope him?" he hissed.

There was a long pause as Eiji experimentally gave Yagyuu a squeeze before pulling away and lashing his tail in Niou's grip. "I remember," he answered somewhat sulkily.

Yagyuu adjusted his glasses as well as his clothes while Echizen smirked at Kirihara, "I appreciate that you all must posture, but can we please get to the matter at hand?"

Niou jerked on Kikumaru's tail experimentally, enjoying the protest that followed. "What'a the scoop?" he demanded.

Kirihara tried to decide if it would be more fun to let the chaos continue, or wiser to spill and bail from the insanity. Wisdom won the strange tug of war, so he turned to Yagyuu first. "I'm working on corrupting an angel," he said. "I had to pay off his bar bill."

"And angel with a bar bill? What the hell are you talking about?" Niou demanded.

Yagyuu mulled this over, not quite sure if he believed Kirihara or not. "An angel ... with a bar bill .... you are quite sure it was an angel?"

Eiji pulled on his tail, trying to free it from Niou's grip, forgetting that he could just make it vanish.

"I wondered, but Sengoku--"

The normally imperturbable Yagyuu's jaw actually dropped. "Did you say Sengoku?"

"Yep, something wrong?" Kirihara asked curiously, eager to have the mystery of Sengoku's rather unangelic behavior explained. Yagyuu had lived in Heaven until about four centuries ago, until Niou had dragged him down, so it was quite possible he would know something.

Yagyuu shook himself and closed his own jaw with a snap. He felt the need to adjust his glasses again, or perhaps rub the bridge of his nose. "I would advise not paying anything of Sengoku's ever again."

Interested in the proceedings now, Echizen actually focused and paid closer attention.

"He owes me a favor now!" Kirihara announced. "Isn't it worth getting a favor out of an angel? It's the first part of corruption!" he said, darting looks between Niou and Yagyuu, since the story of Yagyuu's corruption was quite well known.

There was a moment in which Yagyuu actually considered telling Kirihara exactly what he had gotten himself into... but it was the part of him that no longer existed and he calmly rid himself of the little bit of pity as well. "I think you will find that it is you that owes _him_ the favor." Okay, so maybe a little bit of his former angelic nature was still there, or maybe he just liked watching Kirihara _squirm_ over the possible implications of that.

"He promised me a favor!" Kirihara shrieked, rising to his feet. His eyes turned red, a sign that he was ready to go destroy something or someone. "Angels don't lie!"

Yagyuu adjusted his glasses, "That is true," he said, "just don't expect me to extend your expense account if you run out." There was no way in Heaven or Hell that he was letting Sengoku get his fingers on the 'bleed Kirihara dry, and thus Hell dry' button.

Kirihara blinked, looking at him. "But I need more money -- and I have some really, really interesting news to pay for it!"

"News first, money maybe later."

"Nope, money first," Kirihara wangled, knowing how Yagyuu's mind worked. "Otherwise, Niou can bug you until I get more funds, cause I won't spill."

Niou gave Yagyuu a Look that meant he'd better Think Carefully about what he was going to do.

Yagyuu managed to glint his glasses in a manner that somehow conveyed 'He Paid Sengoku's bar bill! He's a FOOL.' Perhaps he was using Morse code. "If your news is of a caliber that will directly affect the inner workings of one of our more serious plans, you will have your expense account refilled. Otherwise, you can suffer."

"It's going to make life interesting," Kirihara drawled temptingly.

"Life is made interesting by your mere existence, Kirihara-kun."

Kirihara set his jaw and stared at the ceiling. He knew he could out wait them -- or at least Niou and Kikumaru, who had the boredom thresholds of a two-year-old human child who'd just ingested a week's worth of sugar.

Yagyuu weighed the value of his information versus the true annoyance of Niou and finally decided that he would rather not risk it. "Very well," he jotted a notation on the list and it vanished in a puff of smoke, "This had better be good." _Or I'm taking it back,_ he added to himself.

“Kikumaru, when was the last time you managed to catch up to Oishi?" Kirihara grinned, knowing it had been several decades since Hell's most famous in-progress seduction had been waged.

Eiji scowled, not enjoying the reminder of Oishi's disappearance being rubbed in his be-whiskered nose. "Seventy years. Why?"

"Well, I happened to run into him, and-- " Kirihara was interrupted by an excited Eiji, who jumped up and tackled him, pinning him to his chair.

"Where? Where?! C'mon, ochibi! Hurry up and tell me!" Eiji wriggled in excitement at the very thought, "C'mon, c'mon, we're wasting minutes that I could be there!!!"

Niou started to laugh. "Ohhh, this is good," he murmured, ignoring the way Kirihara was being shaken.

Yagyuu was forced to agree. Kirihara could keep his hard won yen. Echizen, however, did not look particularly pleased at having not found Oishi first.

"Where?! Where?! Akaya-kun! I can't stand it anymore! Where's Oishi!?"

"In a bar," Kirihara finally managed to gasp, and Kikumaru fell back, dumbstruck. "I guess his assignment must be a regular."

Yagyuu almost twitched. The same bar with Sengoku, no doubt. This would indeed be interesting.

"Oh ho?! Oishi in a bar, with a regular! He's ripe for the plucking!" Eiji crowed, doing a little dance.

"I think you should get Oishi's charge while you're at it, Kikumaru," Niou prodded. "A two-for-one special."

"I should!" Eiji flexed his claws, purring now. "I should, I should, nyah!" He bounded for the door, deciding he no longer needed to stick around and worry about little things like meetings with Hell's Infernally best. There was an Oishi to seduce! He had to get going! There was no time to waste! The door banged and Eiji was gone, leaving only a bit of shed fur behind.

"Che. You just got lucky," Echizen muttered vaguely in Kirihara's direction, quietly lamenting the fact that he wasn't on the scene of double angelic intervention. That would have bagged him quite the prize to put on his resume.

"Do you think he'll realize I didn't tell him which bar?" Kirihara asked, ignoring the upstart.

Before anyone could answer, the door banged open again and Eiji threw himself at Kirihara, "Aghh! Ochibi! You didn't tell me which bar! How could you forget something important like that?!"

"I didn't!" Kirihara protested, trying to untangle himself from his senpai. "You didn't ask! Besides, you can't go looking like that!"

"I'm not going to go looking like this! What do you take me for? An amateur?!" Eiji shook Kirihara to make his point. "The bar! Focus, ochibi! Where's the bar!?"

"It's called The Lounge, it's located in Tokyo," Kirihara said, his fingers trying to unpry Eiji's from his neck.

"The Lounge," Eiji purred with relish. "It even _sounds_ sinful." He rattled Kirihara again. "Where in Tokyo?"

Kirihara looked uncertain. "Tokyo?" he said lamely. He had never been particularly strong on the geography thing.

"Perhaps it by the college that Kirihara is assigned to," Yagyuu inserted almost helpfully.

Eiji sparkled at Yagyuu, dropping Kirihara with a thump, "Perfect. Just... perfect. I'm coming, Oishi! Wait up for me!" With that he charged back out the door.

Niou stared at Kirihara. "So that's your report? You've located Oishi, and you're working on seducing an angel?"

"And an entire math class -- well, damning them, at least. Most of them don't need more than a nudge." Kirihara scowled. "Just wish Sengoku wasn't in it."

Yagyuu placed his hand on his jaw to keep it from doing any more unexpected motions.

"Does it matter? I thought you were on the path of his seduction?" was Echizen's helpful commentary.

Kirihara's eyes flared as he glared at the brat. Echizen may had damned 99 souls in his mere century of existence, but that meant squat, considering they were all human souls. Kirihara wanted to play with the big boys now.

"Just watch! If Niou can damn an angel, then I certainly can!" he pronounced before stalking out of the door proudly.

Echizen watched him go, once more annoyed that _he_ didn't have an angel to play with. That would certainly ensure his rise if an angel was his 100th damned soul. "He seems to think he's as good as you are, Niou-sempai."

"As bad as I am, ochibi-chan," Niou corrected, his eyes sparkling. "I think he has some natural talent, but let's see what he does with it?"

 _"Mada mada da ne,"_ was all Echizen felt he should reply to that. Hell forbid that he acknowledge that Kirihara had anything at all. Not willing to continue any discussion that included his rivals prowess and certainly none that had Niou and Yagyuu _together_ while he was _alone_ , Echizen drifted out of the room, making sure it wasn't obvious that he was fleeing.

Niou smirked at the door. "Now that they're gone, want to tell me about Sengoku?" he asked curiously.

"Depends," Yagyuu smiled somewhat slyly. "What do I get out of it?"

The door mysteriously vanished as Niou rose to his feet to stand behind Yagyuu. His hands wandered up and down his lover's body before he leaned forward to nibble his ear, evoking a shudder. "It would make me... happy."

"Would it?" Yagyuu let his eyes slide closed as he leaned back into Niou's arms, a hand reaching back to rest on Niou's hip, rubbing lightly, "I don't make you... happy already?"

Niou recognized a distraction when he saw one, but just then Yagyuu rubbed against him provocatively, and Niou forgot about anything except pinning the Fallen Angel to the floor and making him scream in shared ecstasy.


	2. The Climate of Hell and Other Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course some boys are mortals, such as Yuuta, Mizuki and Saeki, but we never said they were normal mortals. Slut!Catty!Mizuki and Slut!Clueless!Yuuta, meet Ontheroadtohellandlovingit!Saeki... and then put them in a study group with Kamio, who just wants to pass. And then we have naked angels and a leather-clad Kikumaru...

 

Rooming with Saeki Kojiroh was an experience Fuji Yuuta was convinced he'd never forget. Saeki was a rather unusual personality who delighted in tormenting those around him. Yuuta liked him -- he figured he must have been attracted to Saeki's cruel steak. Of course, he was dating Mizuki Hajime, so he was just a glutton for punishment.

  


Their room, located in a standard dorm building, was often the scene of minor clashes between the suave Saeki and the manipulative Mizuki. Both of them considered Yuuta their personal toy, and neither played well with others.

  


Yuuta just suffered through it. They were at it -- again -- and Yuuta was considering ordering out for pizza or maybe ramen. It was like listening to a broken record, and he'd heard this song so often it was burned into his brain and thus didn't require any attention from him.

  


Mizuki Hajime sniffed at Saeki in a manner that indicated he smelled something especially odious in the room and it happened to be one Saeki Kojiroh, "When hell freezes over." This was the resounding finish to his argument and he considered it a damn good one.

  


Hearing Mizuki speak had Yuuta spitting something out unwillingly. Occasionally his mouth would run away from him, and this was one of those times. "Actually, there's parts of Hell that are frozen already."

  


Yuuta had no clue where that came from, but he was convinced he was right.

  


Pleased to be distracted from his endless argument with Mizuki over what amounted to home decorating using paint ball guns, Saeki tossed out an easy, "How do they manage to keep it frozen if it's always hot down there?"

  


"It's got different climates, just like Heaven and Earth. Some people find being cold their own personal Hell, and the Devil has to accommodate," Yuuta said, still considering what take out place to order from, and ignoring the fact that Saeki had apparently forgotten his fight with Mizuki in favor of pestering his roomie.

  


Fight? What fight? Saeki remembered no fight. Already, he had blotted it from his mind... especially since he knew he was right. Mizuki was just blustering to save face. "That makes a certain sense."

  


If Saeki was talking, Mizuki felt obligated to one-up him, usually in a manner that best revealed his higher level of culture and displayed Saeki's inability to be anything more than a cute plebe. "Dante mentions that Hell would be cold, because it's the furthest from the light of God," he mused idly, toying with a strand of his hair.

  


"Oh, it's still pretty hot in places." Ramen, Yuuta decided. From the little place he'd discovered last week... but it didn't have take-out, so he'd need to actually go get it. With a sigh, he went over to his closest to dig out a more presentable shirt -- Mizuki had managed to rip his in their last encounter. Saeki had been rather upset at walking in on them having sex on his bed, thus the argument.

  


Saeki shot Mizuki an annoyed look as Yuuta's actions reminded him that yes, Yuuta was dating another guy and yes, they were kinky enough to do it on Saeki's bed. "Just not everywhere?"

  


"It's either hot or cold. No real in between." Where the heck were his shoes... Yuuta didn't even notice his profound statements, preferring to focus on the material world. Saeki and Mizuki, though, were absolutely enchanted by this side of the normally thick young man.

  


Mizuki felt compelled to keep this magical perception flowing, "Land of extremes, then?"

  


"It's Hell. Of course it is. You're just never in the extreme you want." Yuuta opened his wallet and found it pitifully empty. Shaking his head, he sidled over to Mizuki and traced his hand us his boyfriend's thigh, before blatantly swiping his wallet.

  


Mizuki smirked at the look on Saeki's face, content to let his boyfriend take all the money he wanted, provided he put his hand back where it was.

  


The blatant male fondling was not to be tolerated (well, fondling that involved Mizuki - he could stand other sorts of male fondling). Saeki tossed in another hopeful distraction to their lust (he refused to call it anything like love), "Makes sense. Jeez, Yuuta. What do you do? Spend your weekends figuring this stuff out?"

  


Yuuta felt Mizuki's hand slip down the front of his pants, and Saeki's question was a rather unwelcome distraction. "What were we talking about?" he asked as Mizuki stroked him temptingly. They'd had sex half an hour ago, but it was hard to keep his body from reacting.

  


"Hell. Hey, do you know what the Devil looks like?" Saeki replied, beginning to be mildly annoyed. He flipped Mizuki the bird and Mizuki mouthed 'any time' at him over Yuuta's shoulder.

  


Only one word came to Yuuta's mind as Mizuki pulled him into his lap. "Sexy."

  


Mizuki did more than smirk at Saeki this time. His face was the picture of triumph as he bent his head to mouth the back of Yuuta's neck.

  


"Being the seducer of innocent souls... " It was quite clear that Saeki considered Mizuki to be the true seducer here. An especially slimy one. "Yeah, okay... is it a chick?"

  


Another brief certainty flitted through Yuuta's mind. "Well, some people think so on first sight, but he's all male."

  


"Damn," Saeki drawled, pulling a particularly grotesque sock out from under Yuuta's bed and rolling it up. He lifted it in a threatening manner, eyeing Mizuki ominously, "I was hoping he would be a hot chick."

  


Mizuki childishly stuck his tongue out at Saeki and purred against Yuuta's ear, "Yuuta-kun... what about Heaven?”

  


"Never been there, how would I know?" Yuuta asked crossly, leaning back as Mizuki toyed with his nipples.

  


That was it, Saeki couldn't stand it anymore. He threw the hazardous waste pretending to be a sock at Mizuki's head, "You're saying you've been to Hell?"

  


Mizuki ducked and shoved Yuuta into the sock's path. It was Yuuta's, he should be immune!

  


Yuuta gagged as the sock smacked him in the face. "Hey, you bastard!" he said, rising to his feet and straightening his shirt. The conversation was lost as Saeki proceeded to get pummeled by an irate Yuuta, while Mizuki laughed.

  


Saeki had the weirdest roommate. Sometimes you'd think he actually knew what he was talking about.

  
 

* * *

 

 

  


Despite Yagyuu and Kirihara's oh-so-detailed instructions, it still took Kikumaru twenty-seven bars and thirty-three clubs to find The Lounge. He probably wouldn't have needed to do the clubs, but he had gotten distracted. Free drinks for chicks under twenty-five - she could dig it! Kikumaru happened to view physical sexuality as a pair of clothes he could change when the need arose. Who could pass that kind of thing up? Yagyuu would approve.

  


Now, though, his destination was at hand and he could just feel the ripple of delighted tension that shivered down his spine. This, he thought, was the moment of truth. He would walk in there and Oishi would fall at his feet just like that. No question. Kikumaru Eiji could do this.

  


Throwing open the door, he stalked inside, strutting his leather-clad ass and letting the dim light sparkle off his skin tight shirt just so. Entrance was an art. Nailing Oishi (Why did Oishi have to wear such drab clothes? Did angels know nothing of pizazz?) with a determined stare and a pointed finger, he cried, "Why didn't you tell me you were working here?!"

  


Oishi had been half-expecting Kikumaru to show up after his encounter with Kirihara, but that didn't stop him from dropping the drink he'd been preparing for Shinji. The shattering glass echoed through the bar, but Oishi ignored the shards and liquor that decorated the floor at his feet. All he could do was stare at Kikumaru in disbelieving horror, and a bit of... relief. It'd been far too long since they'd played their game, and Oishi had missed the cheerful incubus.

  


"Um, well..." he stammered, backing up so he was leaning against the bottles of exotic drinks. Kikumaru always threw him off balance.

  


Oishi hadn't changed, that much was obvious. Kikumaru put his hands on his hips and leaned forward, pouting with every ounce of pathetic kittenishness he could summon without using ears. "Oishi, you were supposed to tell me where you were running to so I could follow you!"

  


"That would have defeated the point of running." He stared at Kikumaru's beautiful face, remembering what it had been like to kiss him...

  


<I>No, no, no! Don't go there!</I> he warned himself. Lust was a sin, and he'd damn himself in thirty seconds if he gave consideration on what he really wanted to do with the demon.

  


They had been playing this game for nearly five hundred years, ever since they met during the Renaissance in Italy. Every time they encountered each other, Kikumaru would try to seduce Oishi, who had a weakness for redheads. Twice it had only been through the intervention of Tezuka, one of the four Archangels, that Oishi hadn't sold his soul to the incubus.

  


Kikumaru had reserved a special level of annoyance for Tezuka, That Stealer of His Fair Game. Who cared if he had been the one who had been responsible for kicking Lucifer to oblivion? If he didn't happen to be Fuji's personal little project, Kikumaru would have wiggled his ass in Tezuka's oh-so-holy direction and taught him a thing or two.

  


Kikumaru licked his lips, making sure to drag the tip of his tongue languorously along the very edge of lip and skin, knowing its power, "There wasn't any need to run, Oishi-kun."

  


For a second Oishi thought he saw cat ears appear on Eiji's head, and tried not to groan. His breathing was quickening, and he felt like a drug addict being promised a fix. "I think... there's plenty of reason. Eiji-- "

  


"You're too loud," Shinji informed Kikumaru with a dark look, thumping his drink for emphasis. What was it? Interrupt his quality time week? Was there no god?

  


Kikumaru swiveled his head to stare at Shinji. He licked his lips again, catching that wisp of human thought: Was there no god? Sidling over to the bar, he dropped himself down next to Shinji and cooed, just a little, "I'm so sorry... let me buy you a drink to make up for it! Oishi-kun! A drink for my new friend."

  


Shinji scowled. This person was as annoying as Sengoku ...

  


"Eiji... I think he's had enough for tonight," Oishi said, not wanting to let Kikumaru focus on the mortal. Kikumaru was practically irresistible for souls who wanted affection, and Shinji might be tempted too easily.

  


"There's no such thing as enough!" Eiji protested and Shinji nodded in agreement. Clearly, this person was way smarter than the people he usually happened to end up drinking next to.

  


"Shinji, how about I call you a cab so you can get to class on time tomorrow?" Oishi asked, trying to find some way out of this situation.

  


Shinji mumbled mutinously, "Don't need to go to class."

  


Kikumaru nodded in complete agreement. That's right, silly mortal, reject your responsibilities.

  


"I'm already failing them."

  


"It's only a week in!" Oishi protested. "All you need to do is give it a little effort."

  


"Don't wanna."

  


Oishi stepped toward Shinji to offer comfort, but the sound of glass under his feet reminded him of the drink he'd dropped. "Ibu-san, if you want to be happy, you need to embrace life."

  


Kikumaru had thought the mortal was doing pretty good on his own, but that was no reason not to block Oishi at every turn. "No, he doesn't... he just needs another drink to be happy."

  


Shinji mulled this over for a bit. Somewhere in that, he was sure there had been a break in logic... but on the other hand, he wanted another drink, and any excuse to get one was a good excuse. "Yeah. Now gimme another drink."

  


Oishi was a comforting angel, not one of the ones who read people their rights. He wished that someone with a better backbone was dealing with Shinji, because he found himself handing over the beer as requested. "That's your last one," he said lamely, feeling miserable.

  


Shinji had only heard that a million times. He tugged the beer to him and happily (as close to happy as morose and unsociable can get) slurped the foam off. "Mmmmm."

  


Kikumaru almost purred, stroking the human's arm in an overly friendly gesture as he smirked at Oishi. So easy, so very, very easy. He stared at Oishi with dark, dark, darkening eyes, as if saying that he could be doing the same thing to Oishi that he was doing to the human... touching... caressing...

  


"Kikumaru, maybe we should talk about things... later... alone," Oishi conceded. He could see that Shinji was on the brink of the point of no return, and if he had to sacrifice himself...

  


Kikumaru smiled at Oishi brilliantly, "Really? Oishi-kun wants to be alone with me?"

  


Want would be the wrong word. Dreaded was more accurate. "We need to talk," Oishi reiterated, shutting his eyes in resignation.

  


Kikumaru almost giggled, covering his mouth with a hand (mourning the loss of his paws), "Oishi-kun needs me!"

  


Oishi decided that the best thing to do would just be to ignore that. Nodding at a waitress to cover his post, he grabbed Kikumaru by the elbow and pulled him into the manager's office. He was in charge at night, so he had enough right to the place.

  


Squawking in surprise, Eiji allowed himself to be dragged, more from initial surprise than anything else. Once inside the office, however, with the door swinging shut behind him, he realized just how convenient Oishi's maneuver was. Smiling smugly, Eiji twisted in Oishi's grip, sliding his free arm around Oishi's neck and pressing himself up against the taller angel. "Oishi-kun does want to be alone with me," he purred.

  


From long experience, Oishi had learned that any attempts to dislodge the demon would only result in him becoming more resolute. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and prayed for patience and chastity. It was extremely hard to ignore the hands wandering all over his body, but he tried with divine might. "Eiji, what are you doing here?" he asked.

  


Eiji pouted into the bit of Oishi's neck he happened to be nuzzling. He didn't really want Oishi to actually start questioning how he managed to show up. Oh no, he would rather that Oishi moaned his name and then nicely fall to Hell so he could fuck him silly. "Visiting you! What else would I be doing here?"

  


"Tempting some mortal into sin?" Oishi returned, trying not to either lean in or squirm away. Indifference was his best weapon, but the hardest to employ.

  


"But you're my most very favorite project, Oishi-kun!"

  


When Kikumaru's hands finally tried to slide into his pants, Oishi backed up a step. There was only so much he could ignore. "Stop it!" Oishi said, smacking Eiji's hands lightly to keep them off.

  


Eiji made his best hurt face, almost making himself a pair of drooping kitty ears before he remembered his human form shouldn't really do that, "But, Oishi!"

  


"Just behave!" Oishi ordered.

  


"Mmmmm" Eiji purred, licking his lips. Oishi was so cute when he thought he could order him around. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch the angel again.

  


Oishi took another step back before his back met with the wall. Cornered, he stared with helpless eyes as Eiji wrapped around his body again. "Eiji-- " he started, but a warm mouth cut him off.

  


Satisfied that he had managed to shut Oishi up, Eiji pulled back to gloat, "You need to stop talking so much and just live a little." Before Oishi could be given the opportunity to reply to that, Eiji sealed his lips over Oishi's again and ran his tongue across his teeth, wanting in and wanting in right now.

  


Oishi raised his hands to push the incubus off, but somehow ended up pulling him closer. His mind was frying and all he could think about was how good it felt.

  


Oishi was delicious when his defenses were crumbling into dust. Eiji squirmed in his grip, rubbing himself enticingly against his divine counterpart while he worked on plundering a soft mouth. Angels were always so sweet, like candy and cream and things so easily sharpened with forbidden sin. He was going to take great pleasure in making Oishi his very own Fallen.

  


Neither of them heard the sound of the door being cracked open, but both became aware of the voyeur when he began to mumble.

  


Shinji squinted at them, empty mug clenched determinedly in one fist, "So that's where you were... s'not fair getting to suck face with him like that when I don't get to... I want someone to suck face with too... and I need some beer... why weren't you out there when I needed beer? It's really an empty mug now and I want a refill... and can you please stop kissing him, I really don't like it... you shouldn't be kissing him like that, Oishi-san ... "

  


Oishi pushed Kikumaru back, sending the incubus into the sofa. Eiji laughed a bit, but as he tried to sprawl out invitingly, he realized that he landed awkwardly enough to be sore.

  


Stupid human form.

  


Oishi, after a somewhat guilty look at Kikumaru, turned to Shinji, wishing his face didn't blush so easily. "Um... um, Ibu-san..." he stuttered, unable to think of any reasonable excuse about what he was doing.

  


Shinji stared at Eiji darkly, not particularly pleased by the way he was attempting to sprawl on the sofa. Then he turned the look to Oishi, who was looking far too well-kissed to make a single man happy, "I want a refill," he repeated firmly.

  


Oishi realized that he had been saved from sin only through what was probably divine intervention. "Go home!" he ordered Eiji, before grabbing Shinji by the shoulder and forcing him through the door, intent on making the mortal as many drinks as he could handle before passing out. He gave Eiji a warning look -- somewhat diluted by how swollen his lips were -- and hurried out of the office.

  


Shinji grumbled, but it turned into pleased mutterings as he was plied with a sloshing mug of the pub's finest brew.

  


Eiji was not so pleased at this turn of events. Annoying mortal. He almost had Oishi. Almost! It was so close he could feel him crumbling. Eiji grinned suddenly, flexing his fingers in the sofa as though they were claws. It seemed the long years had been like a drought to his favorite angel... he could use that... and the bitter little mortal too.

  


The cackle that echoed through the empty room would have scared any sinner straight, but luckily for Eiji, no one was there to hear it.

  
 

* * *

 

 

  


In the hierarchy of Heaven, there were four Archangels who were God's right hands. Three of them were currently holding a meeting in what appeared to be a bathhouse. Cleanliness being a virtue and all, Heaven was well-equipped with bathing facilities, believing that clean bodies led to cleaner spirits.

  


It was not that Tezuka didn't believe in cleanliness, it was just that he didn't see why they had to meet in a bathhouse every single time. He was beginning to suspect that all angels were secretly voyeurs on some level and were letting their secret little desires out by spying on each other in a socially acceptable setting. Despite this, he still picked up a bar of soap and began lathering up with determination. "Everyone is doing well, I hope?" Formalities and politeness must always be observed.

  


Atobe rolled his eyes and grabbed a loofa. "Of course I am." He slanted a look at Yukimura, an angel so fragile-looking a breeze might blow him away. "Though I think Seiichi still hasn't recovered from the... what was it last time? Black plague?"

  


"World War I, actually," Seiichi said, his face still wane. He was notorious for managing to injure himself in the line of duty. His smile wasn't bothered, though, as he gave Tezuka a smile of exceeding sweetness. "Did you have something you wanted from us, Kunimitsu-kun?"

  


"I would advise being more careful on your next assignment, Seiichi," was Tezuka's relatively calm additive to the discussion of Seiichi's persisting collection of injuries. It was true that injuries from the titanic battle against Satan had made Yukimura prone to sickness now, so he really should just take care of himself, Tezuka thought. There was indeed a subject that Tezuka wished to broach with his colleagues, but one he was also reluctant to discuss. Atobe had a tendency to pick at his plans despite never being involved in them.

  


Yukimura blinked at him. "They're not letting me go down - that's why Sanada-"

  


"Where is old stone face, anyway?" Atobe asked. It was a well-known fact that Sanada was practically glued to Yukimura's hip, so if he wasn't with Yukimura, chances were he was on Earth.

  


Yukimura ignored Atobe's interruption gracefully, continuing smoothly as soon as Atobe shut up. "-is working in Florida to straighten that mess Niou gave us a few years ago."

  


A line crinkled its way between Tezuka's eyes, an indication that he was frowning. "You should have been able to handle the clean up of that on your own." It sounded as though Sanada and Yanagi had teamed up against Yukimura again.

  


"I would have, but it's a bit difficult to do from up here. I needed someone who could actually manifest. I've got another two decades before Yanagi says I'll be fit enough to work on the mortal plane."

  


"Unfortunate." Tezuka set the soap back down and reached for the water dipper. "Do we know if Sengoku is bothering to check his messages? He seems to be ignoring mine."

  


Atobe sniffed. "He gets them, I just doubt he pays any attention." The idea of the irreverent angel always ruffled the feathers on Atobe's back. "Why in Heaven would you want anything to do with him?"

  


"I prefer to keep track of his movements rather than letting him run wild without supervision."

  


It definitely was a good point, but Atobe found Sengoku so annoying he ignored the logic of Tezuka's argument. "Out of sight, out of mind," he said, waving a disdainful hand.

  


Yukimura tried not to sigh. Being with the two was like being between the proverbial rock and a hard place - though he would secretly call it "hard heads" since Tezuka and Atobe occasionally needed to have their heads knocked together - usually by Sanada. It was times like this Yukimura missed Sanada, since he knew he couldn't use those brute-strength methods. People expected him to be nice, after all.

  


"He is one of us," Yukimura said, offering a gentle smile. "We're concerned about all of God's children, especially the unruly ones."

  


"Out of sight and most likely planting frogs in your clouds again, Atobe." Tezuka often felt it necessary to bring this particular prank up. Mainly because it secretly amused him to think about it. Tezuka shifted his focus to Yukimura and mouthed the easy platitude that Sengoku fed him every time he pulled something of a dubious nature, "We are all implements of divine will." Perhaps that would be sufficiently neutral enough to free him from having to make statements about which side he thought Sengoku was actually working for.

  


Yukimura merely raised an eyebrow, even though his compassionate expression didn't waver. "Indeed." His smile shone line a warm sunbeam as he bestowed it on his peers. "Tezuka, is there some reason you're particularly curious about Sengoku?" he asked as he gestured for Atobe to pass the strawberry scented bath gel.

  


"I suspect he may be up to something." It was not a lie, suspecting the wayward angel was up to something was part of why Tezuka was asking.

  


"When is he not up to something?" Atobe shot back as he tossed Yukimura the bottle he had requested. "If he would only spend a quarter as much time as I do with God, he might be on a better path."

  


Now Atobe was bringing up his supposed favorite status with the Heavenly Father. It might have been a bit more powerful if he wasn't talking to Yukimura, who was millennium older than he was, and Tezuka, who everyone knew was the most powerful among them. Yukimura mutely grabbed a bath poof and added the gel, the sweet smell calming him. "Is there something unique about this situation? We all know Sengoku has a penchant for finding trouble," Yukimura said instead of rising to Atobe's bait.

  


There were moments when one must simply ignore Atobe. Now was one of those moments. Tezuka poured some cinnamon shampoo into his hands and calmly applied it to his hair before he answered Yukimura, "I fear he may be interfering with Oishi."

  


"Oishi?" Yukimura echoed, unable to hide his surprise. Oishi was one of their best, with his genuine compassion guiding him through. If only there wasn't the incubus who had declared Oishi his personal play-thing.

  


"Yes." Tezuka was not known for exposition.

  


Atobe was tempted to dunk Tezuka in an attempt to get him to say something constructive. "Sengoku has a bad habit of not being where he should, but what makes this time so special?" he asked, but then his face darkened as his legendary Insight pieced the puzzle together. "Don't tell me Sengoku's playing with demons again."

  


"That was what I was afraid of," what he was hoping for, actually, "and why I was asking if anyone had heard anything," Tezuka made it sound like an admission versus an explanation.

  


"Maybe we should ask Akutsu. They are rather close friends," Yukimura suggested.

  


Atobe snorted at the idea of Akutsu having any friends. "Is he still here? Isn't it about time for Dan to tempt him away again?"

  


No one was really quite sure which side Akutsu was originally on, but it was well known that he switched almost every decade. Yukimura found it hard to believe that he always Fell for Dan Taichi, but he had to admit that demon had definitely redefined the concept of "cutely evil." It was only when their own, Kawamura, managed to make Akutsu repent that the whole cycle would start again. According to Yanagi's records, Akutsu had switched sides 657 times.

  


"Yes. It seems he's actually taking Sengoku's messages right now." Something that had been somewhat interesting to watch. The phone would ring, Akutsu would pick it up and then he would promptly set it back down again, disconnecting the caller. It had been something of an education in how Sengoku had always managed to miss their calls.

  


"Well, send him down to fetch Sengoku. Problem solved," Atobe returned. "Is that all?"

  


The last thing Tezuka wanted was ever-ambivalent Akutsu mucking around in what was Tezuka's business. He just didn't bother to tell Atobe that he would be ignoring his advice, "Yes, I believe that is everything."

  


Yukimura was smart enough to detect the subtle undercurrents that Atobe's pride made him miss. He finally did sigh aloud, realizing that Sanada would have to be called back to help deal with the fall out. The Floridians could sort out their own election system.

  
 

* * *

 

 

In the beginning, everyone knew that God created the universe. A universe with certain laws, rules, and elements that remained constant over time. One of these universal constants was math, the little bit of calculation that kept the scientific parts of the universe running on cue. This was the unfortunate reason why students of all ages must study the little bits... that and the fact that some fool named Newton bothered to pull Calculus out of the ether in a fit of divine inspiration and teach it to the masses. Sengoku didn't admit it to his own associates that Newton's Calculus had been his own bit of contribution to law and order... as well as the torment that made so many bright souls fall astray.

  


So he didn't really need to be in math class. But hot damn if the pretty little bit of infernal fluff named Kirihara wasn't here and so was Saeki, who was just an all around outstandingly fun mortal who happened to be throwing something at Mizuki right now. No, Sengoku held no responsibility for the paper clip flying at Mizuki's head... okay, so maybe he did. Just a little.

  


Mizuki snapped an "ow!" and rubbed the back of his head, turning to glare poisonously at the two now innocently smiling perpetrators.

  


Sakaki had declared the period a shared study, which was why Kirihara had managed to wrangle his way into a group containing Mizuki and Yuuta. The other group that was sitting nearby was the aforementioned Saeki and Sengoku, and a rather excitable person named Kamio. He was a ton of fun to incite and had a fuse the length of one of Kikumaru's whiskers. There might be a touch of delay in the explosion, but he almost always went off pretty quickly.

  


Kirihara handed Mizuki a spitball shooter. "Aim for the face," he advised.

  


Mizuki did not need to be told twice. He loaded, he aimed, he fired on his immediately dodging foes. "You fuckers, stop moving out of the way!"

  


Sengoku pulled a face at him. "Oh, you want us to stand still?"

  


"You couldn't hit the broadside of my ass if it was flashing itself at you," Saeki blithely informed him.

  


"You're going to flash your ass?" Sengoku asked, intrigued.

  


"Oh, did you want to see it?"

  


"Please?"

  


Saeki turned, undid his pants, and merrily mooned the now twitching Mizuki (who forgot to shoot such a nice target out of disbelieving shock). Ignoring the catcalls of girls across the room, he gave Mizuki a smirk and sat back down, dressing as he went.

  


Sengoku placed a hand over his heart, "A finer ass I have never seen."

  


Kirihara was starting to get to the point where nothing Sengoku did surprised him anymore - he was becoming numb to it, really. Who cared if Sengoku was merrily leading Saeki down the path to eternal damnation? It made Kirihara's job a lot easier.

  


Yuuta, now beat red, was staring at the squabbling trio with disbelief. He'd thought Saeki and Mizuki were bad, but this new element was raising the usual bickering to an art form. He looked at Mizuki with the puppy eyes he knew his lover couldn't resist. "Can we just get back to studying?" he asked, hoping to advert a further flagrant public display.

  


Mizuki cast an exceptionally dark look at Saeki, making a mental note to seek a great vengeance on him at a later date. And on Sengoku as well, but mainly on Saeki. He reached out to rest his hand on Yuuta's thigh and murmured an, "Of course, Yuuta-kun," and smirked as Saeki shot him an annoyed look.

  


Sengoku glanced down at Kamio's quasi-industrious scribbles and then looked up to smile at Kirihara, "Hey, Kiri-kun. Think we can trade you for quick stuff here?"

  


"Why would I want to join your group? All you do is copy off me," Kirihara returned. He decided to take aim at Kamio and maybe rile him up. "If he's not good enough for you to copy off of, it's not my problem."

  


Kamio's hand shook as he tried to maintain his attention on his assignment. There was no way he wanted to get involved in the current sparring match - he was meeting with An after class, and she would be annoyed if he wound up in trouble.

  


"Can I help it if you're such a fine upstanding student who actually does his work?" Sengoku shot back.

  


Saeki just reloaded and zeroed in on Kirihara, "Yo, stop molesting our group!"

  


"He started it!" Kirihara protested.

  


Sengoku and Saeki looked at each other and looks of innocence passed between them. Saeki turned back to Kirihara and fired again, "Such lies."

  


It was an annoyance to have to duck the projectile, but inside Kirihara preened. Damning Saeki's soul was pretty much a sure-fire thing... almost a freebie. He thought that even if Sengoku tried to set him on the path to redemption, Saeki would probably veer way left of it.

  


"I never lie!" Kirihara protested, meeting Sengoku's eyes in challenge. Angels always had to tell the truth, and demons almost always lied to keep things going. It made life interesting.

  


"Sure you do," Sengoku countered with lazy disagreement, "All the time." He didn't call it lying, he called it restructuring the truth. He also didn't worry too much about fighting for things that he couldn't win. Saeki was nearly assured to fall, but Sengoku figured they'd make good friends when he Rose to demonhood in the future -- that was a surer thing than his initial fall.

  


Saeki, his accuracy apparently in doubt if he missed Kirihara, was more than happy to reload and fire again.

  


Yuuta's expression became even more pained as Saeki misfired and hit him in the cheek. "Saeki!" he growled, feeling his temper about to go.

  


Saeki just waved at him, "Yo, sorry, man," he grinned, "You could just come over to our side and spare yourself."

  


"I choose my own side," Yuuta said icily. Mizuki chuckled and leaned over to give him a rather excessive kiss.

  


It finally made Kamio snap. He'd been watching quietly, hoping they'd stop, but in the end the rather blatant male PDA turned his stomach. He was not comfortable at all... it reminded him of the time Shinji had tried- well, it wasn't one of his favorite memories.

  


Slamming his book closed, he rose to his feet, ready to stalk out after giving everyone a piece of his mind, but a gentle hand on his shoulder paused him.

  


"Akira, take a deep breath," Tachibana, the TA, advised, a calm expression on his face.

  


This was one of the moments where Sengoku was mortally tempted to say something along the lines of 'from somewhere about here' and point in dubious directions. He bit his lip to stop the snicker from the thought and elbowed Saeki to do it instead. Saeki, ever ready to pipe up at the golden opportunity, delivered these words of wisdom, "Take a chill pill, man."

  


Kamio, who'd been calming down under Tachibana's soothing presence, lit up like a firecracker. "I don't want you to tell me what to do! All I want is to get our homework done, but you two seem more intent on inciting the class perverts!"

  


Mizuki sniffed at Kamio in disdain, "We are not perverts. Saeki may be a pervert, but we aren't. Isn't that right, Yuuta?"

  


The only thing more entertaining than watching Kamio explode, Saeki thought, was watching Mizuki explode. To this end, he casually laid a hand on Sengoku's leg and gave it a stroke, "That's me, perverted all the way."

  


"Aww, honey, I didn't know you cared! But what will the kids say?" Sengoku simpered, a truly disturbing sight, and tossed an arm around Saeki's shoulders.

  


"I don't know what the kids will say, but their babysitter says it's a good idea to use class time wisely," Tachibana replied. His smile wasn't at all mocking, and took the wind out of their sails. Strangely, his words actually had a positive effect. Mizuki sniffed and opened his book, and Kamio returned to his seat.

  


Kirihara fumed inside. Things had been going so well... and then that jerk had butted in, putting out the fire before it could get properly blazing.

  


That decided it. Along with damning Sengoku, he was going to bring Tachibana down. Down to hell, that was.

 


	3. The Devil Takes a Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one thing Kikumaru really hates is Tezuka, which means he has to show up. Did we mention Hell holds board meetings in Fuji’s garden filled with – you guessed it – cacti? And Mizuki thinks he’s going to heaven – or would, if he wasn’t an atheist?

  
In the beginning of time, man was basically an idiot. He left his crops sitting a small, airless place for too long and expected them not to rot. Foolish, foolish man. Of course they did!

That's when he discovered that he could drink the rot (why he _decided_ to drink the rot is a mystery we hope never to truly uncover) and after he had managed to pry himself from the worship of holes in the ground and rid himself of those pesky hangovers, alcohol was born. This was a discovery that really just led to man being yet _more_ stupid, for he was killing any brain cells he had managed to accumulate.  
  
But this really has nothing to do with the matter at hand, unless you count the fact that man likes to make small cave-like places in which he may drink his alcohol in the coveted time-honored fashion of the very first drink. Man likes tradition. In this tradition, Shinji sat with his mug in one hand and peanuts in the other, morosely staring at his barkeep, who was industriously scrubbing the bar in order to ignore Shinji's new favorite drinking companion: Kikumaru Eiji.  
  
Eiji was also clutching a mug in the time honored fashion of drunks everywhere, but he chose to display himself in the time honored fashion of dames: leaning against the bar, a long smoke dangling from the free hand, while one's clothes make an effort not to spontaneously detach from one's skin and fall to the floor. Actually, Eiji had considered this, and discarded it as too scarring to mere mortal minds. Not to mention that the threat of their falling was giving Oishi a harder time than if they actually fell.  
  
Oishi was trying very hard to keep his eyes above Eiji's neck, and ignore the way Eiji's low hip-huggers seemed determined to desert his body at any moment. That, however, left him looking at Eiji's mouth, which was wet with liquor and from the way Eiji occasionally traced his tongue oh-so-temptingly around it. It was times like these that Oishi offered prayers of thanks for the apron he was able to wear as the bartender, because it nicely hid the rather large boner that made it hard to move.  
  
Finally getting irritated by Oishi's constant distraction, Shinji asked the first thing that came to his mind. "What's your favorite color, Oishi-san?"

"Red," Oishi said, unable to keep from his gaze from drifting to Eiji's hair, admiring the way the tendrils curled against his cheeks, and brought of his blue-violet eyes.  
  
Eiji blew Oishi a little kiss and absently pulled a lock of his hair. Shinji shot Eiji a dark look and thumped his beer morosely. What was it about redheads? Horrible, irritating ... _sensuous_ ... Shinji shook his head. "Have any hobbies?"  
  
"I sing, a little," Oishi admitted. He was part of heaven's choir, so he supposed that counted. "I like music."  
  
Kamio liked music, too. Shinji shuffled his mug around, trying to work on something more constructive to say, something exceptionally witty and daring that would keep Oishi talking until he could think up something better to say. "Do you have any pets?" Witty and daring was not forthcoming.  
  
Eiji giggled at that and purred, giving a little wriggle, "He has me!"  
  
Shinji scowled, "I wasn't talking to you. Who asked you to be here anyway? Why don't you just go away, you're sparkly and sexy and useless and I don't want you to be here anymore. Go away."  
  
Oishi kind of agreed with the not wanting Eiji around bit, but his reasons were a bit different. Especially since Eiji was wiggling and pouting and... well, Oishi was shifting a lot himself, trying to find a comfortable way to stand. Still, he couldn't let Shinji act like this.  
  
"Ibu-san, you shouldn't be mean to Eiji," he chided.  
  
Shinji hunched farther over his beer and scooted one seat away from Eiji, obviously sulking. "He deserved it."  
  
"He's been very nice to you," Oishi said. He hated having to defend a demon, but he always had to tell the truth. "You should treat others as you wish to be treated."  
  
Oishi was _defending_ the interloper! Fine! Shinji had his beer! He didn't need Oishi -- to _talk_ to Oishi! -- anyway!  
  
Eiji smirked and stretched. It was absolutely amazing how he didn't have to do anything but sit here and look like his usual dashing self and Oishi would manage to alienate his own charge. Ah, the truth... it was crueler than any lie. "You say the sweetest things, Oishi-kun. It's almost like hearing an angel speak!"  
  
"Um, um," Oishi stammered, his thoughts scattered. He couldn't avoid looking at how Kikumaru's "Sex is a sin - sin with me!" shirt rode up to expose his trim abdomen. It really wouldn't hurt to reach out and touch it for a second, to see if the skin was as smooth as it had been in 1874, would it? Oishi wondered.  
  
Shinji felt that eyes should have the power to shoot lasers at people so they can die horrifying deaths. Unfortunately for him and lucky for Eiji, his sudden desire for super powers went unanswered by the most high god. However, it seemed that some other god, perhaps the imp of perversity himself, was listening in, for the door to the bar swung open and in strode Tezuka.  
  
Tezuka did not believe in bar-hopping as a sport, therefore, his clothes did not reflect the standard in bar-hopping fair. There was a button-down blue shirt with the cuffs rolled up the elbows and dark slacks instead of mesh shirts and low slung hip huggers. Usually Tezuka managed to be mistaken for a salary-man. He nodded to Oishi, ignored Eiji completely (much to Shinji's secret glee), and calmly asked for a beer.  
  
To say that Eiji was put out was an understatement. Eiji was _livid_. Eiji was _filled with hatred and fury_. Eiji was not going to let this slide! He ordered another jack with coke.  
  
Oishi stared at Tezuka in disbelief and relief - and a very small bit of disappointment which he didn't want to admit to. Tezuka had pulled him out of Eiji's clutches four times in the past, and it looked likely that he would be chalking up another to his tally before all was said and done. "T-Tezuka!" he stuttered, before offering a weak smile. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Like he didn't know.  
  
Tezuka folded his hands, completely unperturbed by Oishi's flustered look. It seemed like Eiji had really been getting to him this time. A good thing Tezuka had decided to drop by. "Checking up on you."  
  
"Ah, that's kind of you," Oishi said as he retrieved the drink for his superior angel. It was flattering, in a way, that an angel of Tezuka's stature would spend so much time making sure he was okay.  
  
Eiji downed his drink in one gulp and rattled the empty glass in a demanding fashion, "Oishi-kun! A little service here!" It was his turn to wish looks could kill as he stared at the side of Tezuka's head.  
  
Tezuka felt not a drop of instant lazer death. In fact, he felt quite healthy! Except for the persistent eye-problem that lingered in all his manifestations, the fall-out from the sight of the blaze of the Host's once brightest star ceasing to exist. Tezuka took a careful sip of his beer and decided it was good, "I worry that you might fall under dubious influences," he replied evenly, "And please put this on Sengoku's tab."  
  
Shinji snickered over his beer. This new arrival was positively wonderful. Eiji was in a snit of fury at being displaced and Sengoku was going to have a flail after finding out someone was ringing up his eternal bar tab.  
  
"Ah..." Oishi put a hand behind his head. "I really don't know..." he said, but then decided he'd rather annoy Sengoku than get on Tezuka's bad side. You just didn't piss off the angel who had vanquished the Big Bad.  
  
Tezuka glanced only barely in Eiji's direction, "How are you, Kikumaru?"  
  
Eiji scowled, "Peachy keen and cherry red. Oishi-kun! What about _my_ drink?!"  
  
"You have one right in front of you, Eiji," Oishi said, unable to remember a second order.  
  
Eiji waves his empty glass again, looking very put out. "Does this look full to you?! I only asked you three times, Oishi-kun!!" He drooped over, shooting a secret furious glance at the archangel sitting next to him, and made a sad little sniff. "You forgot me ... "  
  
"I could never forget you, Eiji!" Oishi said, and he quickly refilled the glass, ignoring the disapproving way Tezuka was looking at him.  
  
Shinji thumped his mug with a snort as Eiji gave Oishi his most hopeful look and asked, "Really?"  
  
Oishi jumped. He couldn't believe he wasn't paying enough attention to Shinji. He was supposed to be redeeming him! Staring at his three patrons, he knew exactly how it felt to have divided loyalties.  
   
 

* * *

  
   
The lord of hell liked to hold the biweekly status meetings in his gardens. Sadly for his chief lieutenants - though not unexpectedly - they weren't normal gardens.  
  
Fuji liked cacti. Small, large - it didn't matter. Forget about apples - cacti were where it was at, as far as the master of all evil was concerned.  
  
Niou materialized carefully, managing to land in one of the few spaces that none of the spiky plants occupied. From the whimpering that already filled the space, Dan hadn't been so lucky - but then he'd always been a bit clumsy.  
  
Having mapped out the gardens before hand, run a careful spectrograph over former data, and analyzing the quantity of chaos, Inui materialized just left of a set of _Stenocereus (Machaerocereus) eruca_ , also known as the creeping devil cactus for the traditionally illiterate. He adjusted his glasses and flipped out his notebook to make the appropriate adjustment to his equations.  
  
Dan, meanwhile, had carefully pried himself from the cacti and the cacti's spines from her person. Mou! Why did Fuji _always_ have to hold these meetings here? He knew Dan was clumsy!  
  
Niou crossed his arms, and wove his way through. Fuji had anti-levitating charms in the area, which meant walking was required. It was positively barbaric... imagine, walking. Next Fuji would put some anti-teleportation wards in, and force people to enter through a door.  
  
Fuji waited for them, idly checking the spines of a devil's tongue ( _Ferocactus latispinus_ Inui scribbled down) cactus. He was always first, which gave them no time to plot behind his back. It really wasn't fair - didn't he know somewhere in the Evil Overlord's Handbook that he was _Supposed_ to make a grand and glorious entrance after his peons had gathered?  
  
Dan squirmed his way through the trial by prickles, taking up an assorted collection of pricks, pokes, and just all out stabs before he finally came into Fuji's Presence, where he sighed and flopped down on his buns with a pout, wobbling his eyes in the Lord of Evil's direction.  
  
Inui slid in beside Dan, notoriously poke free, and sat down on nothing. Nothing was Inui's preferred seating of choice, since chairs actually soothed one's associates ... the associates that weren't numbered in Hell's Infernally Best, that is.  
  
Niou, being Niou, chose a likely looking cactus and plopped on it, after casting an impenetrable charm on his own skin. It was chancy to do so, since Fuji could decide at any moment to undo it, but those little challenges were what made life worth living. Last time he'd turned a cactus into a sofa, and that hadn't gone over well... it was better to learn from it.  
  
Fuji, luckily, seemed amused by Niou's audacity, chuckling as he turned his attention to his top three. On his face was a smile that had fooled millions, but the entire group was smart enough to realize it was simply a mask for the most sadistic mind in existence. "How is everyone today?" he asked.  
  
"I was fine until I came, desu," Dan informed him, pointedly rubbing an arm.  
  
Inui's answer is smooth as silk, "Sufficiently positive, thank you. You?"  
  
Niou merely slumped down so he was a bit more comfortable on the cactus and raised an eyebrow. "I hereby motion we postpone this meeting until last week."  
  
They ignored him. He made the same motion at every meeting.  
  
"You should look into that rut you've fallen into, Niou," Inui murmured, stretching his long legs out.  
  
"I think these meetings are a rut," Niou shot back. "They're a waste of time."  
  
"Of course they are," Fuji agreed pleasantly. "That's why we have them. People _expect_ hell to have board meetings discussing the bottom line and performance goals."  
  
"No, they don't. We didn't use to have them!"  
  
"We didn't use to have so much middle-management," Fuji replied. "Don't you read Dilbert?"  
  
Dan sighs. Niou was so right. They used to get to run completely wild ... what fun that used to be. "I don't see why we have to structure our lives to mortal expectations."  
  
"I'd hate to disappoint them," Fuji said, and the puppy-dog like look on his face matched Dan at his best.  
  
"It's not like they're even going to know about these meetings when they _get_ here, desu ... "  
  
"Yes, but we will, and I think the quality of the work we do is reflected by our sincerity," Fuji replied.  
  
"Sincerity? This is hell!" Niou spat. "There's nothing sincere about it!"  
  
There were agreeing nods from Dan and Inui, though Inui just agreed because he wanted to see Fuji's return to that and not because he actually had anything against the board meetings.  
  
The look of disappointment on Fuji's face was heartbreaking - had any of them any hearts to break. "Niou, I would have thought you of all people would have understood. The best lie is one that comes from the heart."  
  
Dan folded his arms over his narrow chest and pouted, "We don't have hearts."  
  
"Indeed. We don't even have internal organs since we don't need them," Inui supplied.  
  
Fuji tsked. "I'm surrounded by people who don't understand the metaphorical. No wonder we haven't managed to have Armageddon yet."  
  
Dan sulkily poked a bit of rock with his toe, "Armageddon this, Armageddon that ... what bout having some fun, desu? All we do is work, work, work."  
  
"Yes, speaking of that..." Fuji's voice lowered a bit, indicating he was ready to get down to business. "When's the next time we'll be seeing Akutsu, Dan-kun?"  
  
"Soon ... " Dan sighed, flopping back on the gravel and pushing his headband farther into his hair, "I'll get him back soon."  
  
"Still having problems with Kawamura?" Niou teased.  
  
Dan scowled, which looked more like a pout, really, "I can handle Kawamura. He's not really paying attention anymore."  
  
"I miss seeing Akutsu around here," Fuji said almost gently. "The place really isn't the same without him." The statement, while mild, was a warning.  
  
"He'll be coming back soon, desu. _Soon_."  
  
Inui opened his notebook. He didn't need to, but he felt like checking it anyway, "Even if we were to gain Akutsu, it is most a 100% probability that we will lose him again."  
  
"So? It's fun while it lasts," Niou replied, twisting his hair between his fingers. "Speaking of fun, Inui, do you have any predictions on Ryoma's latest venture?"  
  
"Venture?" Inui echoed, rapidly filling paper.  
  
"Didn't you hear?" Niou gleefully bounced, ignoring the quills. "He's working on damning the granddaughter of the miko who exorcised Nanjirou!" Dan squeaked, but Niou merely smirked. "Of course, he didn't realize it was Ryuuzaki-sama's granddaughter in the first place... it was chance he ended up there, I think..."  
  
Fuji snickered to himself, earning a suspicious look from Niou. "Ah, funny how things work out, isn't it?"  
  
Niou seemed to consider whether it was wise to challenge the guy who signed his paychecks, but apparently decided not to. "Anyway, apparently Ryuuzaki-sensei has his number... he's cleaning _floors_ like an apprentice..."  
  
Now Fuji was laughing outright. "I have a Porsche I need him to do when he gets back..."  
  
Niou ignored him again. "...and meanwhile, Kirihara is getting ahead of him in what Ryoma's original target was, and damning a whole college math class!"  
  
There was a flurry of paper and scribbling from Inui while Dan giggled, "Polishing floors, desu! If only Kirihara heard about that ... " he trailed off in thought before grinning in an almost angelic fashion.  
  
Inui added the final plus mark and let the equation tally itself up, "Interesting. On current data, we have a 95% chance of damning the granddaughter, but a 50% chance of losing Ryouma in the process. She must have a little miko blood in her."  
  
"She's completely clueless. She's no Ryuuzaki-sama," Niou said smugly. "Though I can't figure out why Ryuuzaki-sama hasn't just performed a ritual and exorcized him, too. I mean, she got rid of Nanjiroh."  
  
That in itself was an accomplishment. Nanjiroh had been one of the four greatest demons in hell, equal to Inui, Niou and Dan. He'd been older than all of them, and more perverted as well. It'd been about forty years since he'd been vanquished, but the shock was still having repercussions through Hell. Many devils were fighting for the coveted spot of fourth advisor to the Lord of Hell, and whoever won it would have a prize indeed. Right now it looked like a dead heat between Ryoma, who had been Nanjiroh's "son," and Kirihara, who was amazingly talented and had Fuji’s special attention.  
  
"Maybe she likes watching him wash floors?" Dan asked brightly, giggling a bit at the thought of Ryuuzaki-sama looming over a tiny Ryouma devil.  
  
"Maybe she likes watching cute boys bend over?"  
  
"That too!"  
  
"Or maybe she's plotting something else," Fuji suggested. "Speaking of plotting, I heard that Sengoku was hanging around Kirihara?"  
  
"I believe Yagyuu made a statement to the effect that Sengoku had found the 'bleed hell dry' button," Inui supplied, referring to the notebook, which could basically be said to be the all-knowing that didn't live in heaven.  
  
Dan groans, "I though Sengoku was busy with the Florida election ... wait, that was Sanada, desu."  
  
Niou preened. It had been one of his nicest bits of work in years. "I'm already working with Touji on teaching hackers how to mess with the new voting machines," he said proudly.  
  
Inui looked interested, "Really? I am impressed. May I look over your figures?"  
  
"Then what's Sengoku been doing?" Dan looks over at Inui, expecting him to know all the answers.  
  
Distracted from the search for data, Inui flips to the very small section headed by Sengoku's name. Name, rank, serial number. This wasn't going to do. He sighed, "My data is inconclusive in this matter."  
  
Niou had often heard of Sengoku, but didn't really know much about him. "He's a bit of a mystery, isn't he?" he said, perking up. He did love new toys.  
  
Dan shrugged a bit, scratching at one of his cactus wounds, "He's just hard to track down, desu. He's not one of the flashy angels." He looked up at Niou through a fringe of dark hair and blinked equally dark eyes innocently at him.  
  
Niou found it annoying that Dan was one of the oldest beings in existence and didn't even look old enough to shave. Talk about packaging with false advertising. "Well, I'm sure he's finding Kirihara plenty flashy enough for the both of them."  
  
For some reason, Fuji laughed at that.  
  
"Is there anything else?" Niou asked testily, wanting to get out of there. Yagyuu had hinted that he had plans for that afternoon, and he wanted to know what - maybe they could screw. Of course, that was what they did _every_ afternoon, but it was still fun.  
  
Inui closed his notebook, "I can not think of anything to add, though I would still like to get together with Muromachi," he inclines his head in Niou's direction. It paid to be at least somewhat polite, "If you have no objections."  
  
Dan just shook his head, poking at a tiny cacti by snaking his finger through the thorns. He wondered idly if he could stab the little thing back in exchange for his travel wounds.  
  
"Fine, fine! We're out of here!" Niou said, standing up and preparing to take off.  
  
"Oh, I have something!" Fuji suddenly chimed in, as though the thought just occurred to him.  
  
 _Shit_ , Niou thought, knowing better than to buy that. Fuji had probably been saving it just for that moment. He knew there was nothing worse than to keep people longer.  
  
Dan pretended to look attentive (while still deciding what horror to wreak on the prickly equivalent to shrubbery) and Inui's notebook snapped back open with an audible metaphoric crack. "Do tell."  
  
"I'm going on vacation! Take care of the shop while I'm gone!" A suitcase appeared on top of one of the cacti, and Fuji was suddenly wearing a horrible Hawaiian shirt. He waved his fingers cheerfully, and then with a poof of melodramatic smoke, he vanished.  
  
Niou stared at the spot where Fuji had vanished in shock, for once truly taken aback. "What in Hell did the Devil just _do_?" he bellowed, wondering if the Apocalypse was about to start, and who had forgotten to send him the memo.  
  
Dan came close to whining as he flopped back on the ground, "Awww, man ... he always does this! I don't wanna take care of the garden, desu! You do it, Inui."  
  
"Do not be absurd, I'm much too busy ... Niou can do it."  
  
"I saw we leave it to Oshitari. Delegate, my friends," Niou said, a frown on his features. "If you can pry Mukahi off him long enough..."  
  
Dan smiled angelically and stabbed the cactus with a suddenly sharp finger, "Let's have Taki do it. Then if anything goes wrong, desu .... "  
  
Inui adjusted his glasses, "The idea has merit."  
  
Normally Niou would have gleefully anticipated the downfall of one of his subordinates, but he was actually worried - well, as worried as he got. Scenarios about what Fuji was really up to danced through his head, and none of them boded well for Niou's continuing his streak as the most successful meddler on earth. "The last time Fuji went on vacation, didn't his ship hit an iceberg?" he asked.  
  
Inui idly watched Dan turn the cactus into fillet. Fuji on a vacation was a time of great interest and jockeying for position. He was already looking forward to the applications of the fallout. "Yes. The Titantic, I believe."  
  
"And.... the time before that, there was the volcano and that cute little Greek village..." Niou drawled, crossing his arms. He could just _think_ of the fun, and he almost cried.  
  
Dan moved on to the second cactus, "I remember Pompey ... it had the best kabobs in the Greece. And the prettiest women, desu."  
  
"I think that might be only your fond recollection. I believe the women in Corinth were much more attractive."  
  
"Though the Greek men were all pretty ugly..." Niou said with a sigh. This time he did stamp his foot. "Do you _realize_ what he just did to us?"  
  
"Left us with the bag while he has fun?" Inui asked, with something near innocence.  
  
"And Inui wins what's behind door number two! We're _stuck_ here!" Niou wailed. He'd thought about going up and checking in on Kirihara - and maybe critiquing his seduction attempts while he was at it - but without the Lord of Hell _in_ Hell, all three of the highest-ranking demons would be needed to keep things from going to, well, complete and utter...  
  
Well, you get the idea. _Some_ sense of order had to be kept, even though it was against Niou's nature.  
  
Dan beams brightly at Niou, like he just won the real prize behind door number two, "But that's the _idea_ , Niou-san! He left us behind! All _alone_ , desu. Completely in charge, desu!"  
  
Moments like these remind Inui why Dan is both one of the Four and one of the oldest among them. He had a mind for taking advantage of every opportunity that was handed to him on a platter, "Perhaps Dan and I can handle the leg work if you would like to continue your plans, Niou?"  
  
Niou knew he was caught like a fish in a trap - which was exactly what Fuji had probably intended. He was smart enough to realize that Fuji would ultimately manage to reclaim his position with ease... but for Niou to keep his own, he'd have to fight for it.  
  
Oh, well. He'd been falling into a routine, anyway.  
  
"Maybe we should have a few... shakedown drills?" Niou suggested. A slight smile curved his lips. "And I believe Yagyuu might have a few suggestions as well on how we can balance our books a bit better?"  
  
"It would be beneficial to employ a few cost cutting measures. Hellish Communications is slowing down operations by 25%."  
  
"I can think of several," Niou said. A grin lit his face as he started to think of several possibilities. Corporate restructuring was such _fun!_  
   
 

* * *

  
   
Math class: the place at which young people come together to exhibit extreme unhappiness about their ability to pass. Study period: the time during math class in which the professor finally gets fed up with attempting to pound knowledge into thick heads and goes to his office to have some coffee ... with maybe a generous dose of gin. Group: the place in which students sitting in the general vicinity of one another come together to talk instead of actually do work.  
  
This Group was where Sengoku was now, chatting it up with his usual cohort in crime, the demon that was supposed to be his rival (if we spoke technically of how these things are supposed to work), the smooching two-some, and the poor fool who just kept getting stuck with them.  
  
Sengoku spun his pencil absently, "So ... I wonder how many angels fit on the head of a pencil."  
  
Yuuta looked at him strangely. "It depends if they've manifested into a human form or not," he said.  
  
"Huh?" The look Kamio gave him was of sheer bewilderment.  
  
Yuuta, though, had already lost interest in the conversation, returning his attention instead to the imaginary numbers which he just couldn't wrap his imagination around.  
  
Saeki's face got that look that said he was prepared to be sufficiently amused by anything Yuuta was prepared to say and by god he hoped Sengoku could keep him going. Anything with Yuuta plus religion was bound to be just good crack.  
  
The pencil spun again, "Well, if they were humans they probably wouldn't fit on here, so what about if they weren't?"  
  
"An infinite number, and none. I've heard that riddle before," Kamio said crossly. "Can we _please_ get back to work?" He was so sick of this study group - he was trying to get at least a B, and there was no way that'd happen if these incompetents kept pulling him down.  
  
Sengoku pretends to look affronted, "This isn't a riddle! This is an important theological question! Up there with the nature of good and evil! It's ... like ... _fundamental_!"  
  
"I always found the fundamentalists fun," Kirihara said. "So ready to damn others..." His eyes gleamed as he taunted his counterpart.  
  
"I'm an atheist," Kamio pronounced, lying through his teeth. "What's the answer to number twelve? I got 42."  
  
"Damning others ... isn't it that you damn yourself, though?" Sengoku struggles briefly over making a joke about 42 before grinning, "I dunno, Kamio ... if I told you the answer, would you remove that stick from your ass and join us?"  
  
Kamio scowled. "This is a math class. Go take a religion or philosophy class if you want to talk about god."  
  
"You'd reject wisdom, then? Just because you don't like the who, when, and where of the source?"  
  
Kirihara slung an arm around Kamio's shoulder, earning himself a dirty look. "It would be a different matter if it _was_ wisdom, but you know what they say about not suffering fools."  
  
Sengoku acknowledges Kirihara's deft maneuver with a nod, "Eh, we're wondering off the subject ... what were we talking about? The nature of good and evil?"  
  
"You tell me. You started this," Kirihara said. "I think it was something about pins and needles..."  
  
"Angels and devils?"  
  
"How about which people would rather be?" Kirihara challenged, tilting his head at Saeki. "What do you think?"  
  
Saeki considered it, mainly because anything was better than doing more math and hey, lookit Kamio get annoyed. He flashed an easy grin, "I'd be a devil, since it's not like I'm making it to heaven anyway."  
  
"Even though heaven's got all the big guns?" Sengoku asks, looking amused.  
  
"Shit, I don't have to like, _work_ at being a devil. I'll just sit there and be the demon of laziness or something."  
  
"Demons don't get to be lazy," Kirihara said in amusement. "Why do you think there's such hell on earth?"  
  
"Speaking from experience?" Kamio asked, finally managing to push his chair out of arm's reach of both Kirihara and Sengoku. He leveled another Look on them, before trying to return to his math.  
  
"Maybe. I'd bet you'd be an angel, with that stick shoved up your ass."  
  
"I do not have a stick shoved up my ass!"  
  
"Prove it!"  
  
Kamio stood up, grabbed Kirihara's book, and whacked him a good one square in the head. "Devilish enough for you?"  
  
"Fuck you," Kirihara said, while inwardly gloating. There was hope for Kamio yet.  
  
Saeki groaned, "Forget it, I'll just die and go to hell where I can do jack except burn."  
  
Sengoku managed to look put out that Kamio hadn't thought him obnoxious enough to smack, "I'm hurt, Kamio ... you don't love me! Where was my beating?"  
  
"You can go find someone else to whack you. He's my dom," Kirihara purred in return.  
  
"Didn't you ever learn to share?"  
  
"Sharing is good, and that's something for angels. We've already decided that both Saeki and Kamio are going to hell, so... what about you, Mizuki?" Kirihara asked, snapping Mizuki out of his exploration of Yuuta's throat with his tongue. "Or is that a moot question?"  
  
"Ah, but sharing during sex is a sin, and that's something for devils-"  
  
Mizuki sends Kirihara this look that stated quite clearly that he was interrupting his smut. With three pairs of vaguely interested eyes and one pair of disgusted ones, he realized that he was probably not going to escape from this with just a glare, so in the interest of getting back to his smut he answered, "Speaking purely philosophically ... an angel, of course. You could ever doubt?"  
  
Saeki choked and had to be whacked on the back by Sengoku. "There, there, Saeki, I know it's a load of horse shit, but there was no need to swallow it."  
  
Yuuta looked at where Mizuki's hand was, and then up at his lover's eyes in disbelief. "Mizuki, you sin every day! Why do you think you're going to heaven? You never show any repentance for anything!"  
  
"I suppose then you'll be joining me, since you're sinning with me," Mizuki sniffed, pulling his hand away and folding it across his chest, miffed, "Not that it matters, of course, since there is no such thing as heaven _or_ hell."  
  
Kirihara and Sengoku's eyes met. It figured that Mizuki was an atheist - and since atheists believed in nothing, they got exactly that when they died. Nothing. Oblivion. Void.  
  
Kirihara almost pitied him. Almost.  
  
Yuuta, though, pushed Mizuki's hand away, his breathing beginning to quicken the way it did whenever they had sex - but the expression on his face was anything but aroused. It approached panic. "How can you believe in nothing?" he demanded.  
  
Mizuki arched an eyebrow, "Quite easily. There's no evidence to support anything like god."  
  
Sengoku spun his pencil absently, amused despite himself about how one could take a class that proved the hand of divine creation and not realize it.  
  
"There's plenty of evidence! All you need to do is look around you!" said Yuuta fervently.  
  
"Evidence for evolution, not for god," Mizuki pointed out primly.  
  
"Don't you believe in miracles?" Yuuta asked wistfully, and his heart was in his eyes as pain shimmered there.  
  
"I believe in unexplainable events, which become explained once man gets around to doing a little legwork."  
  
Yuuta looked about ready to pitch a fit, and Kirihara waited with eagerness. Maybe the perfect couple could have a nasty break-up that would damage both of them... It was delicious.  
  
Sengoku leaned back in his seat and stuck his pencil behind his ear, folding his fingers in front of himself thoughtfully, "There is nothing unexplainable because everything in the world works upon a set of principles, like a computer works on chips and electricity. But where did the principles come from?"  
  
Mizuki frowned, distracted from Yuuta's fit by the simple and altogether amazing fact that Sengoku was not giggling like a fool in the background. "They were already there."  
  
"How did they get there?"  
  
"Well ... the Big Bang."  
  
"So you expect me to believe that an accidental, unprecedented explosion in the midst of nothingness manage to construct a set of laws that works together so flawlessly that nothing in the universe spontaneously combusts?"  
  
Mizuki paused and then scowled, glowering darkly at the unpleasant feeling that even if he were to retort, Sengoku would have an answer that would back him even farther into the corner he was being trapped in. He sniffed and changed the subject, "What about _you_? You're no angel."  
  
"I never claimed to be one!" Sengoku smirks.  
  
"Never?" Kirihara said, drawling the word slowly. He had his prey set in his sights - Sengoku was well and truly trapped. Kirihara knew that in some point in his career, Sengoku had probably announced himself, and... well, this was a beautiful lie.  
  
A slow serpentine smile slid its way across Sengoku's face as green eyes shifted from Mizuki to Kirihara, "Never."  
  
"Then you'd prefer to be a devil, then?" Kirihara was stunned, unable to believe how Sengoku had managed that.  
  
"There's a certain freedom in evil, neh? Being an angel would be kinda limiting."  
  
Kirihara didn't understand it! Sengoku was an angel... wasn't he?  
  
Suddenly suspicious, he shut his eyes and tapped into a bit of his inner power, before opening them briefly. The "other sight" allowed him a closer look at Sengoku's aura... and he was nearly blinded by the power of it.  
  
Yuuta, who had been watching them with interest, stared at Kirihara. Had he imagined it, or had his eyes just turned the color of blood for the briefest of instances? He rubbed his own eyes, and Kirihara's eyes were that pretty blue-green he rather envied, so... well, maybe he needed more sleep.  
  
Kirihara felt like he'd been hit by a truck. The aura he'd seen had been one of the most powerful he'd ever looked at - but it was definitely angelic, despite the strange coloration and ambiguity to parts of it. His head was splitting, and his usual sarcasm fell beneath sheer confusion.  
  
Who on earth - or in heaven or hell, whichever applied - was Sengoku?


	4. The Long, Dark Penal-Teatime of the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which There is Tea, Houseguests of all Kinds, and the Damning of Mortals.

_Purgatory: The final frontier. These were the travels of the angel Yanagi, in his mission to..._  
  
Bad Star Trek jokes seemed to follow Yanagi ever since the character Spock had been developed. Yukimura teased him that it was his own fault for manifesting in Gene Roddenbury's dreams, but that's a different story. The subject of today was Purgatory, and the mission was tea. With a devil. It was all out of a bad novel, and Yanagi was terrified what would happen if anyone found out. He did not need to be the subject of more bad religious epics.   
  
Purgatory was not the baby-flames and gentle suffering those above believed it to be. Rather, it was more along the lines of the extreme stress and boredom of the Department of Motor Vehicles. Souls stood endlessly in line, waiting desperately for some attendant to fill some order they didn't know with a deadline they were sure was fast approaching or had expired six months ago. It was even decorated in that tacky pale yellow and puke green of the sixties in which the first and most lasting of these establishments had been created on earth.   
  
There were a comfortable table and two chairs laid out in midair over a line of exceptionally bored and stressed looking souls. The table was laid with a homey-looking red and white checkered tablecloth, the chairs were white and black wrought iron, and the umbrella over the whole shebang was striped in white and blue. It was very Italian Bistro. Inui sat very comfortably on one of the chairs, pouring two cups of tea that had a dubious look to them, being one of his special blends (Inui Penal Tea to be specific, one of the milder concoctions in his repertoire).   
  
"Good day, Yanagi. How are you? I hope the trip was without difficulty."   
  
"No worse than usual." Descending from heaven wasn't a pleasant experience, since it pretty much meant giving up everything good and pure and having to come face-to-face with this nasty thing called _reality_ , but Yanagi had learned to tolerate it. "Yours?"   
  
Moving up had always been easier than moving down, though reality was often just as distasteful to devils as it was to angels. One was always so restricted outside of hell. "Quite acceptable," Inui replied, setting the teapot down and exchanging it for the sugar, which he spooned generously into his cup. Sugar added an additional kick to an already unstable collection of spices.   
  
Yanagi considered Inui Juice one of the trials of his life. He'd learned through long experience that if he didn't partake, Inui would become obsessed with feeding him and the whole visit became a wash. It was a subtle challenge, and Yanagi knew enough not to back down. With a sigh, he added a lot of cream, hoping to dilute it. It meant he'd have to drink more, but hopefully it wouldn't be as potent as it was straight. Almost as an afterthought, he dumped in sugar, wondering if _this time_ it would mask its taste. Hope sprang eternal, especially for the angelic.  
  
"I hope you find the choice of beverage acceptable," Inui said, just to dig the knife in. He momentarily contemplated pulling out his notebook, a habit he knew he should consider dropping but was loathe to part with, before deciding it wasn't necessary, "Anything you wished to discuss, Renji?"   
  
This was why they met. The two were the unofficial liaisons between heaven and hell, and their monthly tea sessions contained information exchanges and other business that helped keep things running smoothly. Occasionally messages would be passed through them, but that was more rare.   
  
Yanagi tended to prepare a list of matters to discuss, and he knew Inui did the same. Both were methodically - some would say obsessively - organized. "I'm curious about your Kirihara. And Echizen... both of them seem to be toying in some chancy business."   
  
Inui weighed the benefits of sharing information on the two and finally decided that it was beneficial to him if he could then use it to find out what Sengoku was doing, "Echizen seems to have gotten distracted. Originally, his intent was to interfere with Kirihara, who was on a standard 'class damning' mission before he ran into Sengoku. I do not suppose you have any information in regards to why he would be involved?"   
  
"Sengoku has always defied all of our predictions," Yanagi said calmly. "He tends to do whatever he wants, and gets away with it. I've tried speaking to Sanada and Yukimura alone, but they told me to let that sleeping dog lie."   
  
It had been worth a try. Inui took a sip of his tea, leaning back. "It's come to my attention that Sanada has been called back. I admit to being curious about the why of that."   
  
Yanagi hated having to supply this kind of vulnerable tactical information, but he knew it was part of the game. "It's your Kikumaru's fault," he said.   
  
"Ah," Inui nodded briefly. It made sense that the possible fallout of another Oishi/Kikumaru confrontation would demand archangel intervention, though usually it was Tezuka who handled things concerning Oishi. He said at much. "Is that not usually Tezuka's domain?"   
  
"That hasn't changed. However, with Tezuka gone, we're short staffed in Heaven, so..." Yanagi stared at his cup, swishing the liquid around. Were those _bugs eyes_ floating in it? "It's a personnel restructuring. Sanada said to tell you to warn Niou that if he messed with Florida again in the next century, he was going to chop his ponytail off."   
  
Inui chuckled, more than happy to watch his colleague lose that precious ponytail of his. "I do not know, I think he might be cuter without that rat's tail dragging -- wait, you said Tezuka was _gone_?"   
  
"Yes... that's not entirely unprecedented - he pretty much goes down and fishes Oishi out every time Kikumaru finds him." Yanagi managed to sound dry and supportive at the same time. "Didn't your data say that would be likely?"   
  
"It did, but," Inui paused, mulling briefly before speaking, "Fuji just left on vacation."   
  
The revelation hit Yanagi like a sledgehammer. "It could just be coincidence...." he said in a dead voice, knowing exactly what was coming.   
  
"There is no such thing as coincidence," Inui replied, caught between glee at Yanagi's horror and a bit of dread of the possibilities of a match between Tezuka and Fuji. This could have bad repercussions for Hell. Especially if Fuji forced Tezuka into a situation similar to the one that had brought down the Big Bad.   
  
"I know..." Yanagi sighed. "Everything happens by divine will." Shaking his head, he placed his elbows on the table. "So... Fuji is chasing after Tezuka again. Last time that ship got in the way... it was a disaster."   
  
"Indeed," Inui said agreeably, smirking a bit at the thought of another such disaster. Finally unable to resist habit and pulled out his notebook, skimming down through recent events again, "It is convenient that Kikumaru found Oishi..."   
  
Yanagi knew it was a headache waiting to happen. His calculations had it as practically inevitable that Oishi _would_ someday Fall for the demon... just not for another few centuries or so. He really didn't want to think of the consequences - and he liked less the consequences of Fuji and Tezuka breathing the same air.   
  
It was best, then, to put it in terms that Inui would care about. "Theoretically speaking, what happens if Tezuka falls?"   
  
Inui adjusted his glasses, the smirk widening with barely contained glee, "That would be... quite beneficial to Hell." And exceptionally beneficial to him. With Tezuka inside Inui's radius, he'd finally be able to examine him to his heart's content, perhaps even crack all the secrets of power that had brought about Lucifer's demise. Secrets that Inui could then use against _Fuji ..._  
  
"Tezuka is the most powerful of the Archangels. I would wager he comes close to Fuji in sheer levels of power, in fact." Yanagi considered carefully how to phrase what he was going to say next. "I could easily see Fuji having to shift his current organizational structure to accommodate for the sudden shift."   
  
The smirk faded as Inui considered the future that might linger beyond the acquisition of Tezuka. Reorganization was a probability, but there was _already_ an empty space within the Four, one easily suited for someone like Tezuka. Inui relaxed incrementally and settled himself in his chair, "Doubtful. Nanjirou's unfortunate circumstances has left Hell quite accommodating to someone of Tezuka's caliber."   
  
"Indeed. However, my calculations also show that there are two promising young demons who have power levels that currently exceed... certain members... of Fuji's current executive staff. Without the open slot for them to fight over...." he trailed off. "Well, I wouldn't want to be the one they decided was the easiest target. They might decide to work together to knock him off before going at each other."   
  
Damn Yanagi's logic. Inui flipped some pages and entered the appropriate information, watching his calculations run themselves. Someone annoyed at the outcome they provided him, he flipped the book shut, focusing on Yanagi once more, outwardly calm, "They are still young. Easily dealt with."   
  
"You know as I do the potential of their power," Yanagi said. "Do you really want to tangle with them? Wouldn't it just be easier to nip the problem in the bud, and leave them squabbling with each other?"   
  
Inui's glinted in the fluorescent lighting, "Are you implying that we should interfere with Fuji and Tezuka?"   
  
"Of course not. We're watchers. We observe and record, but never interfere," Yanagi said, managing to sound scandalized.   
  
"It is getting crowded down there."   
  
"Going down is the easy part. Speaking of which, do I ship Akutsu's luggage to the same address as usual this time? I think it'll be two years at best."   
  
"Please. Fuji provided incentive, I believe it will be one."   
  
"Sounds about right." Yanagi looked at the watch on the wall, noticing it had just clicked a minute closer to Doomsday. "It's getting late. I have to get going."   
  
"So soon? You have not taken even a sip of your tea," Inui almost smiled as he lined Yanagi up in his sights.   
  
Yanagi managed not to wince. He _had_ hoped Inui wouldn't notice.   
  


* * *

  
Oishi's stipend from heaven was incredibly meager. As bookkeepers, the Jimmies kept keen eyes on things. It was a bit amusing that it took two of them to replace Yagyuu, but it wasn't anything a wise angel pointed out. They were both fiercely individualistic, always yelling together whenever anyone pointed out how close they were.   
  
Oishi was a kind creature, so he let them keep their illusions. The problem was that they were determined to show that they were better than Yagyuu had been (sadly not true - no one could squeeze a penny until it screamed for mercy like Yagyuu), so they would cut, and cut, and cut from the budget... and usually in the wrong place. That was why Oishi was currently rooming in a one-room flat whose plumbing went out of order on alternating Tuesdays.   
  
As an archangel, Tezuka's cut of the budget was a bit higher than Oishi's, but considering whose soul he was trying to keep on the path of straight and true, he chose to mooch. Which was what had him knocking calmly at Oishi's door and ignoring the neighbors who were screaming things at each other over a barbecue.   
  
Tezuka's presence radiated like a small sun, and even from inside Oishi knew who it was. He wasn't used to visitors, and he bit his lip, looking around his immaculate (and barren) apartment, wondering if he dared invite his superior in. His hands acted before he could have a mental conflict, though, and he found himself unlocking the door.   
  
"Hello, Oishi," was Tezuka's even greeting as he focused on Oishi, then flicked his gaze around the apartment before resettling them on his subordinate and somewhat friend. It was a praise even left unspoken in Tezuka's thoughts. Tezuka didn't have much in the way of 'friends', preferring to remain at a distance.   
  
Oishi nodded his head, deciding not to be too formal. This was his place, after all. "Tezuka. Can I get you something to drink? I think I can make some tea..." he said, remember some pre-packaged green tea he'd picked up on first moving in two weeks ago.   
  
"Tea would be fine." Tezuka stepped inside and out of the doorway, idly hoping that a shut door might block out some of the impassioned screaming from next door.   
  
Oishi had long since learned to ignore it. He glanced around, wondering where to sit Tezuka down. There was only a very tiny table and a chair in the living area, with a gallery kitchen looking out into it. The closet-size bedroom barely fit Oishi's twin bed. He had to stand on it to get clothes out of his closet. And the bathroom made airplane restrooms look spacious   
  
Tezuka solved the problem of seating by dipping into his power and pulling the idea of a folding chair from the ethereal and making it substance in the real. It thunked to the floor beside the other chair with a clunk, rattling in the manner of folding chairs before settling. Tezuka sat down on it, folding long legs beside the table since beneath it wasn't exactly big enough to accommodate him comfortably.   
  
Oishi blushed a bit. Tezuka's casual display of power was why he was an Archangel and Oishi would never be one. Oishi's power levels were steady, but he would never be the stuff of legends. He had to conserve what he had in case of emergencies. "Um, I'll go make it," he said belatedly. He puttered around the kitchen a bit, finding a pot and filling it before setting it on the antique stove. Two slightly cracked mugs were located, and he dug around in his cupboard, looking for sugar. Unable to locate it, he came back a bit ashamed.   
  
"I'm sorry. I don't have any sugar or anything," he apologized.   
  
"I like it plain." Despite the easy displays of power, Tezuka was as personally bland as gruel. His heavenly office? Neat and furnished with the usual standard office decor, but empty. No desk clutter, no pictures, no excessive plush. His earthly manifestation slid into the background at earthly engagements, blending into the namelessness that is the salary man.   
  
The smile Oishi gave him was blinding. "You're so kind, Tezuka."   
  
Few people called Tezuka kind. In fact, there had only been one other who had... but he was gone now. For that and that alone, he named Oishi as a friend. An absurdly short list currently consisting of only two angels. Tezuka fingered the rims of his glasses instead of replying.   
  
Oishi finally decided that he was done in the kitchen for a while, coming out to take the chair. "Were you planning on staying for a while?" he asked.   
  
"Yes. If you don't mind," he added as an after thought.   
  
Oishi knew exactly why Tezuka was there, and didn't want to bring it up. "It's not a problem." Of course it wasn't. As long as Tezuka was there, he wouldn't have a chance to be seduced by Eiji.   
  
Why did he think he heard some very small part of himself crying?   
  
"Good." Tezuka could admit to being selfish and wanting Oishi to stay with _him_ instead of following after Kikumaru. Of course, he only admitted it because it also happened to coincide with the idea of rescuing others from temptation.   
  
They were quiet as Oishi tried to find a neutral topic of some kind. "Um, Sengoku's been hanging around a demon." Maybe that would be enough of a smokescreen, even though he was pretty sure Tezuka already knew.   
  
Tezuka inclined his head slightly. "Yes," he paused and finally decided he should probably make an effort to hold up his end of the conversation if he was staying with Oishi. "He does that sometimes."   
  
"Should we be worried? The demon seemed rather bent on getting on his good side." Oishi tried to remember his name. "Kirihara. That's his name - isn't he rather new?"   
  
"A few hundred years old, still pretty young." Tezuka could recall being that young (and stupid and stubborn -- the stubborn part hadn't changed, people just called it determination now) and it was a strange thing to have so much time between then and now. "It's something to keep an eye on, but most likely Sengoku is putting Kirihara through a... test drive?"   
  
"Test drive?" Oishi echoed, a bit confused. Then again, everything Sengoku did confused him.   
  
"Toying with him, like a cat," that twitch was a shrug, "To see if he'll be entertaining enough to poke at later."   
  
"Poke... at? Isn't that a bit... demonic? Isn't he one of the good guys?"   
  
"Yes." Tezuka was calm and assured, as though he had no doubts about Sengoku and never would. "I believe he just bores easily."   
  
Oishi didn't understand how a person could be bored in heaven - oh, who was he kidding? He spent half his time daydreaming about Kikumaru. "Still..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Isn't it a bit... dangerous... to toy around with a demon?" Like he didn't know from first-hand experience.   
  
"It is, but he's not stupid."   
  
_Neither am I, and look at the mess I'm in,_ Oishi wanted to say, but thankfully the shrill whistle of the tea kettle stopped him. He stood hastily, knocking his chair back, and getting his legs tangled. His balanced wavered, faltered, and then he tipped over completely, landing in Tezuka's lap.   
  
Tezuka blinked, staring down in complete astonishment at his lap, which was suddenly full of Oishi. His fingers coiled around the other angel's shoulders and he tugged a little, as if to help him up, though admittedly the angle for it was wrong.   
  
Oishi wanted to drop dead - well, not exactly, since he was an angel, but he seriously wished for a convenient way out of his predicament. Ending up sprawled on your superior just wasn't a good career move, and he wondered if the room was getting hot...   
  
Tezuka blinked again. Why wasn't Oishi just moving? It was obviously an accident. "Did you want to stay there?"   
  
"Ah- no! Um, sorry!" The kettle continued its demands, the noise piercing through anything he might have said. He tried to scramble to his feet, but in the process he landed his hands on some rather interesting places on Tezuka's body. "Sorry!" he apologized again, finally making it upright and then dashing for the kitchen.   
  
There would have been some undignified flailing if this had been anyone except Tezuka, but since it was Tezuka, he just shifted around uncomfortably as his interesting places were groped. Then, once Oishi had managed his escape, he set about to straighten his clothes, which suddenly felt horribly mussed, but that might have just been him rather than his clothes.   
  
Oishi returned in about three minutes, his breathing back under control, though he wasn't able to meet Tezuka's eyes as he set the tea in front of him. He managed to find his own seat again, slyly pulling his seat about a foot farther away than it had been previously. He was so embarrassed.   
  
It wasn't obvious to most naked eyes (though Sengoku had proven to have a sixth sense about such things and was known to poke persistently), but Tezuka was also a bit embarrassed. To cover this, and regain his outwardly unruffled composure, he sipped at the tea. "It's good tea."   
  
Oishi took a sip, and decided Tezuka either had no taste buds or was merely acting in a socially acceptable fashion. The tea was beyond bitter, and bits of leaves had escaped the bags. He set it down quickly, deciding to just use the cup to warm his hands. "How long do you think you'll be staying?" he asked.   
  
"I'm not sure." It depended upon how long it took for plans to migrate their way to fruition.   
  
Oishi looked around his apartment, wondering where he was going to put Tezuka. There was no spare couch, and the bed would be a tight squeeze. "Um, all I have is one bed..."   
  
Tezuka regarded the bed for a moment, "I can make another." There would just be wall to wall bed, then.   
  
"You'll have to put it out here. There's no room in the bedroom."   
  
"Point," Tezuka nodded. "I'll pay for my share of the rent."   
  
That wasn't what Oishi had wanted, exactly. But if Tezuka was volunteering to pay for rent, it sounded like he intended to hang around for a while. Which brought about another problem... "Um, Tezuka?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I'm going to be working at the bar for a while. Remember the assignment you gave me?"   
  
Tezuka did indeed recall. "Yes?"   
  
"You kind of... stick out." Oishi wasn't sure how to phrase this.   
  
"How so?"   
  
It wasn't done to tell someone them resembled a block of wood. "Maybe you could... relax a bit more? Most people go to bars to have a good time."   
  
Tezuka sighed and made an effort to, as Sengoku called it, 'get that stick out of his ass'. It worked, somewhat. "Fun like Kikumaru, I suppose?"   
  
An image of Tezuka in leather pants and a mesh shirt, merrily drinking Screaming Orgasms made Oishi almost choke on his own tongue. "N-no one is like Kikumaru," Oishi managed to stutter out.   
  
An eyebrow raised over thin metal rims. "So I gathered from the view I was getting of his unmentionables." Tezuka's attempting to tease you, Oishi. Really!   
  
It was only through great self-restraint that Oishi didn't dump his tea on the lap he'd landed in ten minutes ago. Jealousy was a sin, after all. "He's just a bit uninhibited."   
  
"Just a bit," Tezuka sighed. Apparently the attempt had not worked as intended. Why couldn't Yukimura be here and do these kind of things instead of him? "Oishi ... "   
  
"Yes?" He dreaded what Tezuka was about to say.   
  
"God is love. Where there is love, there can be no sin." Tezuka lifted his teacup and took a long drought of the wretched brew. There, that wasn't so hard when you just spat it out and pretended to look all-knowing.   
  
Oishi stared at Tezuka, wondering why he was saying something that every angel knew by heart. Tezuka didn't just say things pointlessly, and right now they were discussing Kikumaru, and that _certainly_ didn't involve love- Just wait a minute.   
  
Oishi felt a smile start to form on his face as he began to hatch _A Plan._  
  


* * *

  
The first thing Fuji did on teleporting was ditch the awful Hawaiian shirt. As funny as he thought it was, there was no way he'd look like he'd just stepped out of Archangel Atobe's wardrobe for longer than he had to. The next thing on his list was to find accommodation, and rather than booking a posh penthouse suite in some hotel, he decided he was going to make it more... interesting.   
  
Thus, "Suite Moments," a rather upscale love hotel located in Shibuya. The place cost an arm and a leg for a few hours, and Fuji had blithely booked a month. Yagyuu was going to cry when he saw the bill, something Fuji wished he could witness, but knew he would most likely miss. Such a pity.   
  
It was a bit different than his home turf, strangely quiet as the sound-proof walls kept the screams he was sure were being elicited safely hidden. The hotel looked much like any other, but the hand cuff dispenser and other "treats" stacked in his room were definite not normal fair.   
  
Fuji loved it. He half wished he'd booked the bondage room, instead to the honeymoon suite, but he hoped he'd have time to experiment later.   
  
The room next to Fuji's happened to be called Cascade of Bubbles. It was an exceptionally froofy name for an exceptionally froofy room, but it happened to be accurate, for right above the bed was a spout that spewed bubbles in an iridescent cascade over the satiny plastic sheets. There was also bubble decor, bubble windows, and, worst of all, bubble lube. Kisarazu Atsushi had decided he hated the room on sight. His brother, his _twin_ , Ryou, seemed to find it a hoot, so he'd given in and gone for a merry romp on the plastic sheets getting soap residue up the arse and into all his more personal cracks. Atsushi had laid down the law on ever returning, though. He refused, absolutely!   
  
And that was the subject of the twins's discussion when they exited the room, nearly bumping into Fuji.   
  
"But, 'Sushi, didn't you like making love under a thousand floating mirrors?" Ryou asked. He was the romantic one, long dark hair nearly brushing his waist. It was a soapy mess now, but after a good screw, he wasn't complaining about details.   
  
"It got up my nose, put a funny taste in my mouth, and smells like what the girls pour onto their hands during class. We aren't ever booking this room again," Atsushi refused to give in. This was now a matter of important sexual principle.   
  
Fuji looked at the two of them, their obvious genetic similarities beyond striking. Tilting his head, he looked at the twins, recognizing the hint of repetitive incest in their auras. He sniffed the air carefully, and sure enough, the boys had a slight scent of peach to them.   
  
"I think you smell delicious," he said.   
  
Atsushi scowled, instinctively knowing a predator when he heard one. Ryou just smiled pleasantly and looped his arm tighter around Atsushi's, "It is a nice scent, isn't it? I'm thinking about getting some ... "   
  
His short haired brother scowled even more. There was no _way_ he was letting Ryou buy peach scented anything of any kind. The mere thought was a travesty.   
  
"I'd recommend it. It's a very... seductive fragrance." Fuji looked them up and down, deciding that they would do. He hadn't had sex with a mortal in eighty years, and he had always been fond of incestuous brothers.   
  
Ryou smiled, "See, I told you, 'Sushi. Now why _don't_ you like it?"   
  
"Because you smell like a girl."   
  
The smile slipped nearly into a frown, "And ... ?"   
  
"And I don't want you smelling like a girl."   
  
Interesting indeed. Fuji leaned back against the wall, watching as the two began to argue about whose fault it was they were sleeping together in the first place.   
  
An argument which ended with Ryou's sudden snap of, "Just because I'm screwing around with you doesn't mean I'm gay!"   
  
Perfect opening. "If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck...." Fuji started.   
  
The twins shuddered in unison over something that had nothing to do with ducks and everything to do with a loud-mouthed quacker they both happened to know. "If you say 'dane' -- " Atsushi began before Ryou cut him off.   
  
"We aren't duck -- I mean, gay!" he shook his head, making his hair swish, "We're just twins ... twins share everything."   
  
"Mmmhmmmm. But you are attracted to each other, right?"   
  
Atsushi nodded a reluctant yes. Wasn't there some principal of being attracted to yourself? Or at least ... your own looks? Ryou maintained stubbornness, "Doesn't mean anything."   
  
Time to reel them in. "Well... have you tried it with another guy? Or are you just going to bury your heads into the sand to the possibility?"   
  
Ryou sniffed, looking Fuji up and down, "Why? Are you offerin -- "   
  
This time, Atsushi cut him off, "Even if you are, why should we trust you? We don't even know your name."   
  
"My name's Fuji... and there's two of you and one of me, so if I prove untrustworthy, you're stronger, right?" he lied through his teeth. He could turn them into piles of ashes with a twitch of his fingers, but he didn't really need to tell them that. "The only way to prove you're not gay is to make sure."   
  
The twins looked at Fuji and then at each other. Silent communication passed between them as sure as winter turns to summer. There was apparently some sort of disagreement, because heads twitched not quite in unison before something was settled and Ryou turned to Fuji and said, "Alright, we'll take you up on it ... but just this once."   
  
Atsushi muttered something about older perverts until Ryou elbowed him in the side.   
  
Fuji smiled and stepped toward Atsushi, who seemed to be the more reluctant of the pair. Running a hand down his chest, he smiled over at Ryou. "My room is just down the hallway."   
  
Atsushi looked at the hand and then up at Fuji. He did not appear convinced, which didn't matter really since Ryou had already caught his hand and was dragging him along, saying, "The Honeymoon Suite? And you're _alone_ .... how unfortunate!"   
  
Atsushi really wasn't paying attention. Somehow, he thought, this is a really _bad_ idea. He just didn't realize _how_ bad.   
  


* * *

  
Kirihara's plans of damnation tended to lack subtlety, since his favorite method involved inciting people to riots, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to use it. He recognized almost instantly that Tachibana was a bit different than the usual types he dragged into Hell, so he modified his strategy accordingly. It took a bit more time to get into position, but he figured it would be more effective.   
  
For the last week, the class had been studying parametric equations, and he'd carefully turned in homework that was less than his usual perfection. He consistently confused SIN and COS, hoping to lay a pattern that would help him snare his fly. It worked pretty well. The second week into them, Tachibana pulled him aside, asking if they could speak a minute after class.   
  
When it came to the homework, Sengoku hadn't been watching. Sure, he shamelessly copied everything Kirahara wrote down since it irritated the demon, but he slapped his homework together willy-nilly and turned it in, always just short of A material.   
  
What he had been watching, though, was the looks Tachibana had been tossing Kirihara now and again during the help session that was a requirement one had to take with the course. So when Tachibana pulled Kirihara aside, Sengoku perked up his ears, listened in with all the shamelessness that he'd used in copying notes, and resolved to linger after class.   
  
Sakaki spent most of the class trying to grind material into reluctant young minds, and Kirihara tuned him out, bored already. He knew this stuff backward and forward - math was a founding principal of the universe, something demons just came into existence knowing. It was part of the whole divine knowledge thing they had going.   
  
After class, as Kamio darted for the doors like he was bring chased by his worse nightmare (which might have been close to the truth, since Mizuki and Saeki followed, bickering), Tachibana came over to Kirihara's seat. With casual elegance, he claimed the one Kamio usual sat in, turning it slightly to face Kirihara.   
  
"Kirihara, I've noticed your work hasn't been up to its usual standards in the last week or so," he said, concern evident on his face.  
  
Sengoku almost grinned himself silly into his bookbag, which he was industriously packing and unpacking. Kirihara? Master of subtlety? It was to laugh.   
  
Kirihara managed to look a bit abashed. "I'm used to getting it the first time," he said.   
  
"Do you study? I noticed you don't pay much attention in class."   
  
"It's boring if you already know it." And how. He'd been doing these equations before Tachibana's grandfather had been born.   
  
"But you don't seem to know this." He pulled out a sheet from a notebook, a red-marked piece of paper that was Kirihara's homework assignment from last class. "I graded this during class, and you're consistently making the same mistakes."   
  
Sengoku shouldered his bookbag and looked over at Kirihara as he stood, as though waiting on his very best friend in the world. He managed to look woeful, like he'd never heard anything more horrible than his 'friend's' little 'problem.'   
  
Kirihara ignored Sengoku. "Am I?"   
  
Tachibana began to explain exactly how the functions worked, and how he was warping the whole equation by consistently confusing the formula. Kirihara pretended to pay attention, then looked confused and frustrated as he attempted to solve one of those problems.   
  
"I don't get this!" he exclaimed, using the immortal words of many math majors.   
  
Sengoku dropped the act of woeful friend and settled in next to Kirihara with a thump, looking over his shoulder as he always did during class. He also poked him in the back a couple times.   
  
Kirihara's good-student facade was strained, but he counted backward for twenty, waiting for Tachibana to stop Sengoku. Sure enough, when he hit "three," the TA spoke. "Sengoku-san, it's hard for your friend to learn if you're distracting him."   
  
Kirihara almost spat something out about being Sengoku's friend the day the devil converted to Buddhism, but bit his tongue.   
  
Sengoku gave Tachibana his best beaten puppy look before replying smooth as silk, "He has a class soon. We really don't want to be late for it." They did have a class ... it just wasn't in the formal definition of soon ... unless you counted a couple hours versus the length of Sengoku's life, in which case it was indeed soon. Ergo, not a lie.   
  
"I think not failing math is a bit more important!" Kirihara retorted.   
  
Tachibana looked at the both of them, noticing the tension and probably something more. Instead of remarking on it, he nodded his acceptance. "Sengoku-san, I've noticed you're doing pretty well. Would you have time to tutor Kirihara-san?"   
  
Sengoku flashed Tachibana a smile that might have lit the sun, "I would be delighted to tutor Kirihara." He placed a hand over his heart and his other hand on Kirihara's shoulder. "In fact, I promise to make time to tutor him in the mysteries of life, the universe, everything ... and also the math." And if there was anything Sengoku had a lot of, it was time.   
  
"I-" Kirihara opened his mouth to protest, but Tachibana was too quick.   
  
"Thank you, Sengoku-san. Kirihara-san, I trust you'll work hard, won't you?" Tachibana asked, clapping him on the shoulder warmly as he rose to his feet, and then left the room.   
  
Kirihara stared at Sengoku in shocked disbelief, wondering how the trap had closed on him instead of Tachibana.   
  
Sengoku just smiled, that slow serpentine smile that Kirihara would soon learn to equate with satisfaction of a plan well worked.


	5. A Deal With the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Glasses Are Fashionable and Blood is Spilt.

The college library was tall and stately, possessing six stories and five wings. Within its hallowed walls were all the books necessary for learning, research, and the pursuit of esoteric knowledge. Such writings as _Computing for Quantum Physics Using Only a Pencil and a Slide Rule_ and _Compton's Guide to English Literature from 1620 to 1950 with Excerpts from Bockman Guildenstern_ were a matter of course and obviously contributed greatly to the continuation of learning. It also had the greatest collection of useless knowledge and decrepit reading ever to exist in one place. Real books? What are those? That's crazy talk. Get thee hence, blasphemer!  
  
The aura of imminent waste of paper and breathing space (and possibly the loss of life, consider Kirihara could kill him and stuff his body in the shelves and no one would know... not even if he started to stink) was probably why Sengoku started choking as they approached their table. "Oh, help - gasp - can't -gasp - breathe," he exclaimed while clutching his throat and dramatically falling face first onto a chair.  
  
Kirihara glared at him, trying to ignore the dust. It made his eyes itch and go a bit blood-shot. He wasn't quite sure why he'd chosen to follow Sengoku after being dragged out of math class, and the library was one of his least favorite places. "Why are we _here_?" he demanded, tossing his backpack on the table. "You know just as well as I do that I don't need help with those equations."   
  
"Oh, I know _that,_ but I promised to tutor you on life, the universe, and well... everything!" Sengoku hauled himself properly onto his chair, "And this is a good a place to start as any."  
  
"I've always found academics are strictly lacking in the life department." The consequences of Sengoku's promise started to bounce around his mind. "You're not trying to redeem me by showing me the ‘right way’ are you? Because you're wasting your time. I like being evil and inflicting pain and misery."  
  
Sengoku leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. "Where do you keep getting this idea that I'm going to show you the right way?"  
  
"Isn't that what you angels do?" Kirihara retorted. The table already had been vandalized by students of decades previous, and Kirihara pulled out a pen knife to add his own touch.  
  
"You have a point there. I guess I should make a token effort."  
  
Kirihara's eyebrow twitched at the "token effort." He reveled in attention, and thwarting an angel's attempts to show him the light would have been a lot of fun. He considered stabbing Sengoku instead of the wood briefly, wondering if that would serve to finally bother the angel. "Whatever," he said. "Let's get this over with. I have a curse to perform at 8."   
  
Sengoku hauled his legs off the table so he can sit up straight and prim. He even summoned up a pair of spectacles that looked suspiciously like Tezuka's, "Kirihara. You're a shameless sinner. You should come to the light of the all-knowing, loving god."  
  
It was simply absurd. "Considered, rejected. That all?"  
  
Finally allowed to fall back into his comfortable former position, Sengoku plucked the spectacles off and twirled them around on a finger. "Well, there's also the part where no one suspects the angels."  
  
Kirihara couldn't resist asking. "Which side are you _working_ for?"  
  
"God's side!"  
  
"Then I'm not interested. God is... good. Good is so boring." He finally managed to finish the first word. "Do you know Kamio's phone number?"  
  
"God is the creator of the universe and everything in it... as well as most of the stuff that entertains us." The glasses spun in the other direction, a glittering arc of light. "Me? How would _I_ know Kamio's number? That would imply that I actually talk to him in my off time."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"What will you give me if I tell?"  
  
"You promised to teach me. Teach me that."  
  
"Oh no, I promised to tutor you. That implies you know something to begin with. But I guess you're too young... "  
  
"I'm not too young!" Kirihara replied, his temper forcing him to rise to the bait.  
  
"Sure you are!" Sengoku leaned over and pinched at Kirihara's cheeks. "You're a cute, baby devil!"  
  
Kirihara's knife was suddenly flying, and even Sengoku couldn't react fast enough. The knife was at the angel's throat, and the demon holding it was irritated enough to use it. "I may not be able to kill you, but I bet I can make you hurt an awful lot."  
  
Interest lit in green eyes and Sengoku smirked. "Then do it."  
  
The knife traced along Sengoku's Adam's apple. It pricked him at the base of the throat, and Kirihara licked his lips. He hadn't _hurt_ anyone in decades with his own hands, really. "I wonder how much you can take before you're forced to go back to heaven to recuperate."  
  
"More than you're capable of dishing out, little demon," Sengoku purred.  
  
Kirihara's eyes gleamed. It was a really stupid challenge, because he was _quite_ capable of using every torture mankind had ever invented and a few they hadn't to inflict serious damage. The knife slipped to the place right above Sengoku's shirt, as gentle as the touch of a lover, before Kirihara pushed it in lightly. A small bead of blood joined the first. "That sounds like a challenge-"  
  
"Are you sure the book is on this floor, Kamio-kun?" a sweet, feminine voice asked as footsteps approached.  
  
A flash of a smile and Sengoku slipped from Kirihara's grip, leaning back again in his chair. The blood smoked from skin that sealed seamlessly, vanishing into nothingness. "It's not a challenge. It's a fact, sweet thing."  
  
"This is the history section, so I think it would be, An-chan." The sound of footsteps came closer.  
  
Kirihara looked at the blood on his knife, then at the smooth skin on Sengoku's throat. That took a _lot_ of power. He scowled before tossing the knife into one of those sub-space pockets that every demon utilized. "Later," he promised.  
  
An-chan appeared around the corner first, a slim, compact girl with short honey-colored hair in barrettes. "Well, I thought I saw a book on computers back there a minute ago... "  
  
Sengoku waggled the glasses at him. "I look forward to it."  
  
Kirihara would have said something, but at that time, Kamio appeared, trailing An. His expression turned a bit sour as he saw who was already there. "An, maybe we should look somewhere else."  
  
Sengoku flashed them a smile. "Oh no, do keep looking! We could even help."  
  
An smiled back at Sengoku, opening her mouth to accept his offer of assistance.  
  
"Thanks, but I'm sure it's not here," Kamio said, before pulling An aside, and back down a different aisle. Their voices could be heard, slightly raised, as An protested Kamio's rudeness. "You don't know them! Trust me, if they 'help,' we'll never get out of here!" Kamio said.  
  
Kirihara felt a bit ill. Seeing Kamio and An made him sick - literally. The couple radiated love, which was not anything a demon liked being around. "There's no way I'm helping them... unless it's to split them up."  
  
"But that would make Shinji happy."  
  
"There's no saying he'll end up with Kamio. If I split them up, all of them can be miserable."  
  
"For a little while. Humans adapt so easily to their little miseries," Sengoku added, balancing the glasses on the tip of a finger. "Time heals all wounds and all."  
  
"The trick is to make sure they're bitter about it. Misery is self-perpetuating."  
  
"Provided someone doesn't come along and mitigate all your hard work. "  
  
"So, who do you choose? Keeping them together and leaving Shinji miserable, or taking the chance Kamio might fall in love with him?" Kirihara asked.  
  
"Scylla and Charybdis," Sengoku responded with a grin. "Hmmm... I choose that the Cowboys should win the Superbowl!"  
  
Kirihara wanted to run his head into the table. Instead, he merely grabbed the knife from subspace and went back to carving an ad for people to call Kamio for a good time. "Is that all for today, senpai? I have souls I should be torturing."  
  
"All? I've only just begun! But how can I start if you ask not the questions of the infinite?"  
  
"The answer is 42."  
  
"The smaller infinite."  
  
"Sengoku, the answer is _always_ ultimately 42. What do they teach you angels?"  
  
"Okay... so what's the question, then?"  
  


* * *

  
Oishi was reveling in the pleasant breather. It was still relatively early in the evening, meaning that most of the college crowd hadn't arrived yet. Kikumaru was of the firm belief that the party didn't start until after 10 p.m., and since the clock wasn't even at 9, the incubus hadn't yet made his appearance. Since Kikumaru hadn't shown, Tezuka was off doing his own thing (probably in a church somewhere, making up for his lost praying time - he spent a lot of time in prayer, more than any angel Oishi knew), which meant Oishi was blissfully alone.  
  
He knew he shouldn't feel so _relieved_ that no one was trying to demand his time, but his life had recently become way too complicated. He had thought this was just going to be a simple assignment - show Ibu Shinji that there was hope, and that God would always love him, even if Kamio Akira never would - and hopefully keep him from trying to commit homicide. A few future projections had shown various scenes of carnage if Shinji continued along his current path, like the one involving the prime minister, a window, and a parade, which was all linked to voices in Shinji's head, but...  
  
Oishi didn't want to think about it. Early intervention was the key, and he had been on the right track! Then Sengoku had led a demon right to him, and that had cued Kikumaru, which had led to Tezuka...  
  
Was it any wonder if Oishi was seriously considering a long stint under Yanagi in the Heavenly Records department? No matter how boring writing names by quill was, it'd be a lot quieter.  
  
It was a little too early for Shinji to be visiting the bar, but these minor details of when one was supposed to drink hadn't stopped him before. He also felt that he needed a good stiff one after the Dyeing Incident, which was never spoken of again.  
  
Okay, so it has to be spoken of if one wanted to know why Shinji's hair was now purple, his shirt was covered in red splotches, and there was red stains on his hands. He had forgotten to read the instructions on the package of red hair dye. A mortal and often masculine error ending up in his hair _not_ being the red needed for proper Oishi seduction.   
  
Gloomy, Shinji sank into his usual place at the bar and muttered something about needing a beer.  
  
Oishi turned to look at his assignment, a friendly smile on his face, but then he caught sight of Shinji's appearance - and must it be pointed out that the red dye looked rather like blood? "Shinji!" He exclaimed, dropping his usual formality as his eyes grew to the size of saucers (well, not really that wide, but certainly beyond normal dimensions). Thoughts of failure and how Shinji had already killed someone, and the reports he was going to have to file started to make his headache worse. "What happened to you?!"  
  
Shinji shuffles around uncomfortably on his seat before aiming his unhappy glare at the bar top and mumbling, "I dyed my hair. Doyoulikeit?"  
  
Oishi blinked once, twice - then took a deep breath as he realized he was seeing the results of a very bad hair day. He wondered why someone with nice blue-black hair like Shinji's would choose to mess with what God had given them, but humans always seemed to be inclined that way.  
  
"It's very... purple."   
  
Shinji slouched lower, "It was supposed to be red. Can I have a beer?"  
  
"Red?" Oishi echoed. He supposed he'd never understand how human minds worked. "Um, coming right up."  
  
Obviously the Plan had been a complete and total failure. Shinji sighed, sucking on his beer morosely as soon as Oishi set it in front of him.  
  
Shinji seemed even more depressed than usual tonight. Oishi could feel the waves of despair radiating off the human like heat from a cheap space heater, and his compassionate heart swelled in response. "Ibu-san, is something the matter?"  
  
Shinji pulled his beer closer to him, nearly cuddling the glass as though it were his only friend, "No. Everything's just fine... I went to class today... the moron squad was acting up again... then I dyed my hair... should have read the directions, but it looked so straightforward... where's the useless redhead? Did he leave? Gone for good? I hope so, I didn't like him much."  
  
"It's a little early for Eiji to be around," Oishi said. He wasn't about to start debating Eiji's merits, since most of them were the kind that he didn't think would be particularly... well, they weren't particularly things he wanted Shinji to discover. "I'm glad to hear you went to class. I bet you can make some friends there."  
  
"Not with the morons around, they disrupt everything."  
  
"Have some patience. Everyone had their good points." Oishi touched Shinji's wrist reassuringly. "Wouldn't it be nice to have a friend to do things with?"  
  
"I guess," Shinji sighed, fixating on the point of Oishi's touch. "Are you my friend?"  
  
"Of course!" Oishi replied instantly. He was everyone's friend, really!  
  
This was a positive step! Perhaps the Dyeing Incident could be salvaged. Shinji glanced up through the curtain of purple hair. "Want to hang out sometime, then?"  
  
Oishi was cornered. "I guess it couldn't hurt..." He frowned a bit. "Ibu-san, I should warn you that the nature of my job might make me get transferred in a moment's notice."  
  
Shinji frowned in return. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm not sure how long I'll be around. Remember how angry Eiji was? It was because I got transferred and I had to leave him without warning." Okay, that was stretching the truth and he felt his tongue burning a bit, but...  
  
Shinji's face went through Shinji contortions, which was somewhere along the equivalent of Tezuka contortions and were only noticed by the trained eye. "We could be friends while you're here?"  
  
Oishi gave him a relieved smile. "That would be nice." Hopefully he could find someone else along the way for Shinji to latch onto. Shinji really needed a friend who could _stay_ with him.  
  
If Eiji kept to a schedule, he would be sorely neglecting his duties as a demon of outstanding sexual prowess. Oh no, occasionally he had to come in before the fun just to remind Oishi that he was The Demon and expectations were useless against him.  
  
Sidling up to the bar in hot pants and a t-shirt that was more string than shirt, Eiji posed himself on a seat with sprawling legs and ordered a gin and coke with a purr.  
  
Oishi wasn't precisely surprised by Eiji's early arrival, but the look that Shinji gave the demon did set off a few alarm bells. He decided to just ignore it, turning around (completely unaware how one redhead and one would-be red head used the opportunity to admire his ass) to fetch the drink. "Did you have a good day, Eiji?" he asked politely as he slid the drink into place in front of the redhead.  
  
"A delicious day now that I'm here with you, Oishi-kun," Eiji's purred, casting the mortal beside him a smirking glance. Shinji glared back, wondering what would happen if he knocked Eiji's chair over and then dumped beer over his head.  
  
"I'm glad to see you, too, Eiji," Oishi said with utter sincerity. A sweet smile lit his face, and there was no trace of the nerves which tended to overcome him around the catlike demon.   
  
Ever since his "talk" with Tezuka, he'd been thinking, and he'd realized that his tactics on dealing with Eiji were fundamentally flawed. He'd been so busy trying not to be damned that he hadn't thought on even attempting to redeem Eiji. From what he'd seen of the demon, Eiji wasn't the type who delighted in pain - merely the kind who delighted in chaos.   
  
Oishi could work with that.  
  
Eiji blinked, completely flummoxed. Oishi hadn't twitched or flinched or made that panting look that meant he was thinking about all the things Eiji could be doing with him. It was just... wrong. Deeply, intrinsically wrong.  
  
Leaning forward, Eiji ran his tongue over his upper lip, "I missed you so, today."  
  
"It's nice to know someone cares about you."  
  
Eiji stared. What the...  "Oishi-kun? Are you in there, Oishi-kun?" He waved his hands in front of Oishi's face.

Shinji snickered, pleased to see 'that damn hussy' having a moment of complete bewilderment.  
  
"I'm fine, Eiji," Oishi said. "Could you calm down a little? It's not good for you to be upset."  
  
"I'm not upset!!" Eiji grabbed Oishi's face and jerked it forward so he could stare into his eyes, "OISHI-KUN! ARE YOU IN THERE?! DID TEZUKA GET YOUR FIRST??"  
  
"Excuse me?" Oishi looked confused now.  
  
Eiji almost whined, "Oishi-kun! You're not supposed to act that way."  
  
"What way?"  
  
The whine became a full fledged pout and Eiji milked it for all it was worth. "Like that way!"  
  
Oishi reached across the bar and picked up Eiji's drink, then forced it into his hands. "How about you take a drink? Maybe it will calm you down?"  
  
A drink sounded brilliant and Eiji gulped his quickly. He thumped it back down and _stared_ at the angel across from him. This was craziness. Something must be up! But not Oishi ... Oishi was never up to something ... right? Eiji narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What are you up to?"  
  
"I merely thought on a couple of things, and decided to reevaluate the course of my existence," Oishi said. It was annoying that he couldn't lie. He wished he knew how Sengoku got away with it.  
  
Eiji became even more suspicious. "What sorts of things?"  
  
"If you wait for me after I shut down, we can discuss it." Oishi blushed a bit, having a hard time believing he was actually propositioning Eiji.

  
The shock of before had nothing on this one. Eiji's mouth dropped open and he stared and sputtered and finally managed to gasp out a "Okay, Oishi," before stealing Shinji's beer to pour some much need alcohol down his throat.  
  
Shinji had been having a glorious time watching Oishi trounce Eiji. He had even been entertaining notions that maybe it was him that had cooled Oishi to the redhead ... which were all blown away by Oishi's final sentence. He glared hatred Eiji as he stole his beer and nearly writhed with jealousy at Oishi's benign expression over the whole thing. He was going to _get_ that obnoxious redhead.  
  


* * *

  
It was closing time at the Lounge. Students were slowly trickling out the doors, only coaxed away from their drinks by the suggestion of more drinks and more full-frontal nudity brought on by drinks if they happened to head home and drink there instead. It took a while, a full thirty minutes after official closing time, in fact, for the last customer to clear the building and wobble out into the street for the walk back to their dorm.  
  
Kikumaru Eiji was in a state of sheer nervous tension and complete impatience for the whole of it, restlessly tapping his foot and shifting around in his chair (much to the appreciation of those formerly seated in the tables behind him). The minute the last customer was gone, he thumped his jack and coke down with a thump, and demanded, "Tell me what's going on, Oishi-kun!"  
  
Oishi was cleaning glasses, something which wasn't his responsibility but that he liked to do because he was a neat and orderly kind of soul. He gave the demon a smile, before looking over at a waitress who was stacking chairs on the tables. "I need to finish this up, but then how about we go and take a walk to talk about it?" he suggested.  
  
Eiji's eye twitched. "But I wanna hear it now, Oishi-kun! Now, now, now!!"  
  
"Eiji, how about helping Yuriko so we can get out of here faster?" Oishi suggested calmly.  
  
"But that's work!" Despite his protests, though, Eiji got up and helped Yuriko, even though it went against his demonic nature to help anything at all, but as long as it got Oishi out of here _faster_ so he could stop dying of curiosity ... "You're so mean, nyah."  
  
"It benefits you in the long run, doesn't it?" Oishi reasoned. He knew very well how the demonic mind worked, but by starting with this simple wedge, he might be able to start a redemption without Eiji even being aware of it. Eiji wasn't the brightest light in the attic, after all. And the smile that Yuriko gave the both of them was blinding as they finished in half the time it normally took to finished closing.  
  
Eiji practically writhed, dancing on his toes as they _finally_ finished the dishes and the cleaning of the bar. "Can we go _now?!?!"_  
  
Oishi undid the apron from his waist and hung it up. "Just let me wash my hands."  
  
"Arghhhhh!" Eiji flailed.  
  
Oishi wasn't a sadist, but he went slowly as he took time to gather his thoughts. He was playing right into Eiji's hands if he left his safe ground, but desperate times called for drastic measures. The lemon-scented soap lingered in the air as he finally pronounced himself finished.  
  
"Are we leaving? Please say we're leaving, Oishi-kun!" Eiji attached himself to Oishi's arm and tugged, trying to get him to make him way to the door, "I can't take it anymore!"  
  
The waitress giggled about how cute Oishi-san's boyfriend was, wishing him a good night, and "good luck!"   
  
Oishi turned scarlet for the first time. "I don't need luck if I have Eiji," he said gallantly - though maybe the compliment was a bit backhanded.  
  
Eiji laughed at the waitress, which came off more as him laughing at her 'good luck' rather than what he was really laughing at, and bounded outside. "Finally!" He turned and pointed a finger at Oishi. "Now tell me!"  
  
It was past 2 a.m., but the crowd was still stifling to Oishi, who had a pretty good idea that modesty wouldn't be a concern to the horny demon... if such a word even existed in Eiji's vernacular. "Let's go somewhere a bit more private so we can talk without being interrupted." Flashes of Tezuka at his apartment persuaded him that his place was out of the question. "There's a lovely bench that overlooks the sea in Chiba. Up for a little magical jaunt?"  
  
That so cinched it. Eiji was going to lay Oishi tonight and his 500 year long seduction would be at a glorious, triumphant end, and not even Tezuka had been able to stop it. Eiji tossed his head in triumph and grinned. "I'll go anywhere you want to go, Oishi-kun."  
  
Oishi led the overly familiar demon - whose hands freely wandered over Oishi's angelic physique - into an alley so he could discreetly teleport the two of them to the place he'd been thinking of.  
  
Eiji blinked as they popped in and out of real space and looked around. He had been hoping to take the oh-so-perfect angel up against an alley wall.  
  
It would have been nice to have been able to describe it as a perfectly romantic setting, but a bit of air pollution only let the brightest of stars (and planets) poke through the gloom. A few years ago, it would have been a wonderful place for lovers, but now most people would have worried about the air from the nearby paper factory. The sea had a few rather interesting colors in it signifying a few clear violations of environmental law.  
  
Oishi frowned at it. It hadn't been like this in the 50's. "Oh, my..."  
  
Least the bench was still there.  
  
Eiji gave the scene a long look. "This is supposed to be romantic?"  
  
"I haven't been here in a while," Oishi said, and felt himself begin to flounder. "I forget how fast things are changing."  
  
Eiji grinned. "Well, it's not our problem. Now tell me, Oishi-kun!"  
  
Oishi was tempted to suggest going somewhere where he would be able to breathe, but decided that his supernatural healing would take care of any damage he incurred. He sat down heavily on the bench, took a deep breath (which made him gag just a little) and tried to figure out where to start. "Eiji, I think we need to discuss where our relationship is heading."  
  
Eiji stared at Oishi like he had grown a third eye. "It's heading to fucking."  
  
Oishi decided they needed to start at the beginning. "Eiji, what am I?" he asked patiently.  
  
Oishi's got to have lost his marbles somewhere. Eiji spoke slowly and carefully, to make sure Oishi understood, "An angel."  
  
"Right. Angels do not casually engage in intimate relationships." His wording was much more delicate.  
  
"Well, duh! That's why seduction works so well to make you Fall!" Eiji exclaimed, thumping down into a sprawl beside Oishi on the bench.  
  
Oishi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why would I want to Fall? I love helping people."  
  
"It's doesn't matter if you _want_ to Fall, Oishi-kun. It's my job to make you Fall or destroy you." 

Oishi gave him sincere eyes. "Eiji, by all rights, I shouldn't have anything to do with you." A slight smile pulled on his lips, and he pet Eiji's hair gently, with a care that Eiji had probably never been subjected to before. "But I do _like_ you. I'm not just attracted to you. I like you as a creature."  
  
Eiji had been lulled by being stroked, craving his kitty ears so Oishi could pay attention to them too, but this, this was too much. "Whaaaaaaaaaat?!"  
  
"You're cute," Oishi said. He pulled Eiji a bit closer, reveling in his body warmth. "I miss you when you're not around."  
  
This was not going the way it should go! Oishi wasn't supposed to think of him as cute, he was supposed to think 'sex on legs'! Argh! "I'm not cute!" Eiji huffed.  
  
"Yes, you are," Oishi said, smiling a bit at the adorable expression on the demon's face. His hand ran through Eiji's hair, amazed at how fine the strands were. "I don't want to have just sex with you. I want to be the one you can rely on."  
  
Eiji leaned automatically into the touch, more than just a little confused by the way events were playing themselves out. When confused, though, he fell back of standard demonic performance and ran a hand up Oishi's thigh, purring, "Then why don't you Fall and become the demon I can rely on forever, Oishi-kun?"  
  
"Because if I'm a demon, I won't be able to love you," Oishi said. "Only angels love."  
  
Eiji gave Oishi a suspicious look, pulling away a little. "Love?"  
  
Oishi's smile was gentle as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Eiji's brow. "If you let me."  
  
Eiji looked up at Oishi cross-eyed, as if trying to take a look at the place kissed without letting his eyes pop out and take a stroll up there themselves. "Nyah, you're strange."  
  
"Are you scared?"  
  
Scared?! Eiji was a demon! Mortals trembled in fear of him! "I'm not scared! Who's afraid of _love?!"_ Eiji sniffed disdainfully, back straightening.  
  
Oishi's lips found Eiji's in a surprisingly gentle kiss. He licked the outside of Eiji's mouth, asking for entrance, and the demon groaned, shifting a bit closer to increase their body contact. Hands began to wander, and they forgot about how ugly it was around them and the air that smelled like industrial chemicals, and concentrated on how wet and warm -

  
"Not exactly my choice for a romantic rendez-vous, but I suppose you take what you can get."  
  
Eiji jerked away with a startled pop at the voice that all demons knew and sorta feared (if they knew what was good for them). "FUJI!"  
  
Fuji Syuusuke, the Master of Evil Himself stood in front of them, his hands buried in oversized jeans and looking very much like a college student. The large beer-bottle glasses he wore had very dark frames, though they looked a bit off with the "I only LOOK sweet and innocent" hooded sweatshirt he had on. He smiled cheerfully at Oishi, who he had never formally met. "I assume you are Oishi-kun?"  
  
"Y-yes?" Oishi stuttered. He wasn't sure what the proper reaction on being caught making out with a demon was, especially when the person catching you was the Devil himself. He tried to think of something to say, but his mind was amazingly blank.  
  
"I've heard a lot about you," Fuji said, and he shifted his footing a bit.   
  
"R-really?" Oishi wondered why Fuji would be interested in _him._ He was pretty low-ranking, when all was said and done.  
  
"Tezuka's very fond of you." Fuji gave Oishi a brilliant smile, the kind that doctors used when saying "this won't hurt a bit!"  
  
Oishi had known that Fuji had always been a bit interested in Tezuka, but hadn't realized that it would extend to himself. "He's a good angel," Oishi replied, wondering if there was any way he could protect Tezuka. Obviously Fuji wanted something. He saw Eiji squirming out of the corner of his eye, and wondered why the incubus was so nervous.  
  
Eiji squirmed around the seat, glowering at Fuji from under carefully lowered lashes. Of course His Most Evilness would have to _ruin_ things right when Eiji could have been getting Oishi laid. Not to mention that The Evilest was probably up to getting _his_ target and scarring Eiji's perfect record. It's something he would do. Eiji scowled and asked, "Don't you have more important things to do, Fuji-san?"  
  
Fuji smiled at him. "Everything I do is important." The subtle _don't tell me what to do, you mere minion_ went unspoken, but the last time he'd used Smile #157 in Eiji's presence had been right before demoting a Demon Lord who'd dared to annoy him over his color scheme choice in Purgatory.   
  
Eiji scowled at the ground and muttered something that might have been an apology, but probably wasn't.

Oishi looked at the two of them, wondering what he was missing.   
  
Fuji gave Oishi an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Oishi-kun, but I need to borrow Eiji. You do understand, don't you?"  
  
Oishi nodded, and rose to his feet. "It's not a problem."  
  
Damn. He was in hot water. Eiji cast his most pathetic look in Oishi's direction as the angel started to walk away.  
  
"Would you be so kind as to deliver a message to Tezuka for me?" Fuji asked sweetly.  
  
Oishi hesitated a moment, before turning around. He couldn't see how that could hurt. "Sure. I can't promise you he will reply, though."  
  
"That's okay. Just promise to give him it exactly the way I give it to you."  
  
"I promise." Oishi began to get a foreboding feeling - and for very good reason.  
  
One second Fuji was nearly ten feet away, and the next he was right in front of Oishi, who only had a second to blink before Fuji reached out and jerked Oishi's head down. Fuji's tongue shoved itself into a startled Oishi's mouth, and he kissed him for a few long moments before letting him go, but not before stealing a good grope.   
  
Oishi stared in horror as Fuji removed his glasses to polish them on his shirt. "Give it to him just like that, okay?"  
  
Oishi, who was now bound by his word, could only teleport away, his dignity in shambles.  
  
Eiji was on his feet in a fuming moment, "HEY! What was that for?!?!"  
  
"I had to test him for you, didn't I?" Fuji twirled the glasses around his fingers. "I approve."  
  
"He didn't need testing! He's just fine!" Eiji snapped, stamping his foot.  
  
"I know that now." Fuji walked back over to put a hand on Eiji's shoulder consolingly. "He needs a little bit of work, but I think he'll work out well."  
  
The incubus huffed and folded his arms over his chest, muttering, "He better."  
  
"Have I ever been wrong before?"  
  
"'This Christianity thing will never catch on.'"  
  
"It's a fad. I'm telling you, give it another couple millennia..."


	6. Touched By An Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which a family reunion (of sorts) takes place and a message is delivered.

The woman who walked down the street elicited stares from men. It might have been something about the slight sway in her step, which drew attention to her lovely hips. Or the fact that her chest was stacked better than a plate at IHOP. Or maybe her beautiful face, which was breathtaking and made many a man have to dash for the restrooms to take care of problems.   
  
It wasn't that she was immodestly dressed. Her light button-up summer sweater and matching peach skirt were perfectly acceptable. The problem for any man who looked on her - and a few of the more bisexual and lesbian women - was that Fuji Yumiko was the definition of "sex on two legs."   
  
Saeki Koujirou, being admittedly a member of the male species and being ruled by the fifth member, was indeed problematized by the sudden appearance of sex on leg -- errr, that hot chic -- errr, Yumiko.   
  
It being a summer day, he was equipped with the latest in eye-screen equipment, and as she approached, Saeki was _compelled_ to lift them and wolf-whistle.   
  
Yukimo paused as she noticed the hot guy with white hair making a blatant appraisal of her assets from a table at a café about ten feet away. Having no particular plans, she gave him a slight smile in return as she approached his table, the click of the heels of her sandals a heady rhythm. "Is anyone sitting here?"   
  
Was anyone sitting here? The goddess was speaking! Was anyone -- hot, damn, no one was sitting there! Saeki felt the need to leap to his feet and pull out a chair, except that would reveal a condition better left casually unnoticed. Instead, he lounged down a little farther, flashed his most brilliant 'give me sex, you know you want to' smile, and said, "Not at all. Please join me. Would you care for a drink?"   
  
Glancing up at the sky, she noticed with disappointment that it was still too early to get away with ordering a beer. She'd have to order something cutesy - and with a lot less alcohol... unless.... "Feel like margaritas?" she asked.   
  
"If you're buying and carding."  
  
She laughed in surprise at his gall. "Usually men want to by _me_ drinks," she said even as she signaled for a waiter. The waiter, who spent a very long time staring at her chest, forgot to ask for ID as she sent away for the margaritas. Resting her elbows on the table, she studied Saeki carefully. "Want to tell me why that was worth it?"   
  
Saeki's first response was not suitable for public consumption, his second was a little better, "You tell me. What would the lady like?"   
  
There were many things she would _like_ but she decided to play it simply. "Well, let's start with a name? I'm Fuji Yumiko."   
  
"I'm Saeki Koujirou. Pleased to meet you, fair damsel," Saeki said, half-bowing over the table. He paused as her name connected to his brain. "Fuji? Any relation to Fuji Yuuta?"   
  
Her breath caught momentarily. "Fuji... Yuuta?" she whispered, and all the playfulness drained out of her.   
  
That was quite the change in mood. Saeki forced his eyes up from her chest, "You know him, then?"  
  
"You could say that." She forced a smile onto her lips. "I just haven't heard about him in a long, long time. He had an accident, and I haven't heard from him since." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Is he doing well?"   
  
Saeki was most pleased to offer the goddess assurances, condolences, and any comfort (hopefully personal) that she might require. "Oh, he's doing fine. Good grades in his classes, boyfriend who gets him laid, everything a man can ask for."   
  
She laughed at that. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure you're a very good... friend... to him." Her foot slid out of her shoe and began to trail up Saeki's leg suggestively. "It'd be nice if we could be... friends... too."   
  
"Oh, the best friend, " Saeki agreed. Today was his lucky day, no question!   
  


* * *

  
Fuji Yuuta was used to Saeki bringing home pretty girls. Occasionally they'd even stop making out long enough to be introduced, but the one currently sitting with her sweater undone and Saeki's hand on her breasts immediately broke off her attempts to see how far her tongue could go down Saeki's mouth to blink at him in surprise when he opened the door.   
  
"Yuuta!" she exclaimed, and the smile of happiness was genuine. "It's so nice to see you looking so well!"   
  
He hesitated, the door handle still in his hand as he desperately tried to remember where he'd seen the pretty woman before. She was a few years older than they were, and not the type who usually wound up in a boy's college dorm for a one-nighter. "Um, I'm sorry, miss... do I know you?"   
  
Her smile became a bit gentle, and had a touch of sadness to it. "You should, but it's not your fault you don't remember me. I'm Fuji Yumiko, your older sister."   
  
Saeki, who had been desperately signaling Yuuta to get the heck out of the room so he could get off in peace, froze. "Sister?" he croaked.   
  
Her smile was brilliant. "Did I forget to mention that?"   
  
Blue eyes narrowed. "You did."   
  
"Sorry about that!" She ran a hand over Saeki's bare chest in apology.   
  
Yuuta wasn't quite sure what to make of it all. As far as he'd known, he'd always been an only child, raised by a disturbingly normal middle class family who had been surprisingly supportive when he'd announced that he was gay - or maybe bi. His mother liked to make him cookies and his father was a salaryman. Never before had they made any mention of another child.   
  
"I'm an only child," he stated a bit belatedly. Of course he'd dreamed once or twice about having a sibling (he particularly wanted an older brother), but finally meeting one, who happened to be sitting half naked with his _roommate_ of all people, was enough to make him feel... disturbed. He found his eyes lingering on her form, particularly her full breasts which were almost entirely naked. If he hadn't seen it, he would have sworn they were fake. They were just too... large... to be real.   
  
"I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that, Yuuta," Yumiko said. She bit the bottom of her lip, trying to decide. "We kind of lost you."   
  
"Lost me?"   
  
"It was an accident!" she insisted, and her eyes filled with tears. "Not only were you lost, but I think you managed to forget all about us in the process." She sniffed once, and Saeki, ever the gentleman, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, which she snuggled into.  
  
Seaki reached up to stroke her hair while asking curiously, "But how did he get lost?"   
  
"Our family made a bad deal. We thought there was something we really wanted, and we didn't know enough to be happy with what we had."   
  
The genuine pain in Yumiko's voice drew Yuuta to her. His instincts - which were never, _ever_ wrong - told him that she was telling the truth. "Why didn't you look for me?"  
  
"You think we haven't been? Yuuta, there's been people searching for you for longer than you can imagine." There was a bit of amusement in her voice. "The Fuji family is very, very powerful. I suppose it's fate that you were given to a family with the same name."   
  
Saeki sighed, rather in complete disbelief. "Sounds like a plot."   
  
"Of the most devilish kind," Yumiko agreed. "I'm just so happy you're looking well!" She clapped her hands in front of her. "How about we all go out to dinner, my treat? It would be lovely to catch up and see how you're doing."   
  
"But... " Sex and food wage a minor war for dominance of Saeki's body. His hand slid up Yumiko's thigh and asked, "Weren't we doing something?"   
  
"Oh, we can do that later," she promised as she began to button her shirt. "I haven't seen my brother in eons!"   
  
Yuuta felt confused as Yumiko grabbed both his and Saeki's arms, and dragged them out the door. She chattered merrily about the weather and asked them about classes on the walk, before finally leading them to a nice little Mexican restaurant. Even though the place required reservations, the trio sailed in, claiming the best table in the house.   
  
Yuuta found Yumiko engaging and charming, and felt her happiness at the company. Friendliness radiated off of her, and he was suddenly glad to have met her... which made him wonder...   
  
"Do I have any other family?"   
  
"Well... maybe you should wait and see. It's complicated," Yumiko said, patting Yuuta on the head as she groped Saeki somewhere lower in a remarkable display of dexterity.   
  


* * *

  
Tezuka had teleported straight to Oishi's apartment with barely a thought, ignoring the filtered sounds of the neighbors as he compulsively straightened his already made bed and then went to prepare an equally compulsive tea.  
  
He had been talking with the Divine Father. Or rather, talking to rather than with. Prayer was an act that only went one way and really, Tezuka hadn't wanted to be answered, just to spill his guts. If God didn't want him to do something, he'd say something, right?  
  
Oishi was already in the kitchen, and from the scent coming from the oven, he was baking cookies. Even if the smell hadn't been a dead giveaway, the mess of unwashed bowls, mixing equipment and half-used ingredients was a dead giveaway. It was a bad sign; Oishi only baked when he was upset about something. It was just too bad that he never learned how to do it very well. No matter how many batches of cookies, cakes and other confections he tried to make, he'd yet to produce anything that approached "edible."  
  
Tezuka regarded the implements of cooking with something approaching dread, warily stepping into the cramped corner that might possibly hide the cups. Perhaps he could grab his tea and make a tactical retreat.   
  
Oishi's reaction on seeing Tezuka was interesting, to say the least. He eeped a bit, and the bowl with which he was mixing frosting slipped out of his fingers and onto the floor. "Darn it!"   
  
Tezuka blinked and watched the bowl splatter icing across the floor. "I apologize for startling you?"   
  
"Oh, no! It's my fault, I mean, I felt you come in, and I know you like a cup of tea, would you like me to make you one?" Oishi did a remarkable impression of one Ibu Shinji when flustered.   
  
"I can make my own tea," Tezuka took hold of a cup and held it very firmly, as though it might be an effective weapon. Or maybe a shield. "Are you okay?"   
  
"Why wouldn't I be?" Oishi asked, shifting a bit nervously. The cow-pattern apron he wore bore was already quite stained from his baking expedition. "Tezuka, how about you sit down and I do that for you? I'm sure you've had a very long day." Never mind the fact that it was only 1 p.m. "It's not a problem!" Oishi reached out to relieve Tezuka of the cup.  
  
Tezuka took a step back, still holding the cup. He was getting rather determined about keeping it in his possession... Oishi might... do things to it while he wasn't looking. Like attempt to bake with it. Or put something baked in it. "Oishi... "   
  
"Ijustwantwhatsbestforyou!" Oishi said, and then made a lunge for the cup, forgetting about the mess on the floor.   
  
Luckily he'd been using a metal mixing bowl, so there were no pieces of glass, but the icing proved to be quite slick, and Oishi's slipper-shod feet sent him spinning forward. He landed with an "ommph!" on Tezuka, and such was his momentum (and the lovely laws of physics which Renji was particularly fond of) that he ended up bring Tezuka down to the ground. The larger angel really made for a more comfortable landing for Oishi, but being on top of Tezuka was the last place he wanted to be at the moment with his promise to Fuji hanging over his head.   
  
He looked at Tezuka in shame, noting absentminded that the archangel had managed to maintain his hold on the cup despite the fall.   
  
The cup emerged completely unscathed from the attack, though Tezuka could not say the same. He made an "oof" sound as he hit the ground and opened an eye (not realizing he had closed them) to peer warily at Oishi. There was the imminent feeling that he was about to get groped again and he wondered if he should cut it off at the pass... or if he _wanted_ to cut it off at the pass.   
  
Oishi knew a chance when he saw it. "Tezukaimsosorrybutihaveto!" he said, and leaned down and kissed him.   
  
"Mmmmppphhhhhh!!!!" was the reply. Tezuka stared at Oishi’s red face, mouth too shocked to move.   
  
The kiss was awkward, and Oishi knew as soon as he started that it wasn't going to satisfy the requirements of his promise. His tongue, for example, bumped against Tezuka's teeth, and he totally had the wrong angle for "giving it to him just like that." His face burned as he broke away. "Sorrysorrysorrysorry!" He scittered backwards, ending up in a corner, wrapping his arms around his legs as he buried his face against his knees.   
  
As soon as Tezuka recovered, Oishi knew he'd be toast.  
  
Tezuka stared at Oishi as if he had grown a third head, a fifth leg, a tentacle maybe, and possibly even a pair of conquering green eyes and a pair of antennae. Surely, Oishi was not of this universe created by God. His mouth moved, open and shut, up and down, before sound came out ... and a high-pitched sound it was, "What was that?!"   
  
Oishi started to mutter a bit, but he ended up making no sense and just rocking back and forth a bit, resembling a patient from an asylum.   
  
Tezuka sat up, compulsively straightening his clothes with his free hand (he was still determinedly clutching the cup with the other). His voice, having resettled into the audio range that he happened to like frequenting, grew a bit more firm, "Oishi. What was that?"   
  
Oishi was too lost in his own misery to even notice. Tezuka stood up, walked the few feet to Oishi, and dropped the cup on his head.   
  
The sound of the cup hitting the floor was ignored as Oishi finally jerked out of his trance to see one of the most powerful creatures in existence looming over him with a neutral expression - the one Tezuka wore when he was suppressing anything that might have shown on his face. OIshi swallowed, waiting to be damned to fire and brimstone for laying a finger on the archangel.   
  
Now that he finally managed to get Oishi's attention, Tezuka repeated his query, "What was that?"   
  
"Iranintofujiandhewantedtosendyouamessagebutigaveitwrongandimsososorry!" Oishi said, his words running together still.   
  
Tezuka blinked, face falling into it's more standard expressionlessness as he takes a moment to figure out what Oishi just said. Oh. Oh! He shifted his focus to the kitchen wall for a moment, considering Fuji and the usual nature of his messages.   
  
He crouched down to ask, "Was it something like this?" before leaning forward to seal his mouth over Oishi's and nimbly stick his tongue down the other angel's throat.   
  
Oishi felt his eyes flutter in shock. Tezuka... actually was pretty good at kissing! He was much better than Oishi, who'd been practicing on and off for five centuries with Kikumaru.   
  
Between Fuji's centuries long seduction attempts and the random traveling accident that was Sengoku, Tezuka felt that he had a pretty good handle on the concept of lip-to-lip contact. In fact, he felt downright proud of the little tricks he had managed to pick up.   
  
Breaking the kiss with a final lick to Oishi's lips, Tezuka rocked back onto his heels, watching Oishi expectantly for his answer.   
  
Oishi felt his lips move once, twice - and then he started to completely meltdown. "T-Tezuka!" he stammered as his brain ceased all functioning. His other brain, though, was starting to stir, and he wanted to find some way out of this, but he could still feel that stupid promise binding him.   
  
Tezuka's head tipped exactly one degree to the side. This was his version of cocking his head. "Well?"   
  
Oishi's first brain kicked in as he realized that Tezuka had asked a question. He stared at the face like a deer caught in the headlights, a bit breathless and wondering if Tezuka had always been so handsome. "Not quite." To his relief, he managed not to stammer.   
  
That was unfortunate. It might require more kissing to discover the exact combination that Fuji had used in his message. There was also a reasonable chance that there was groping involved. Tezuka's head tipped another degree. Not that kissing Oishi was an unpleasant notion.   
  
Oishi saw a considering look in Tezuka's eyes, and decided to make another go. "It was more like this," he said, and then he leaned forward for a third kiss, which lasted quite a while. As he broke away, he groped Tezuka, trying not to notice how well-shaped Tezuka's ass was.   
  
Tezuka decided that he _liked_ the way Oishi tasted, though he twitched at the grope. "I see."   
  
Oishi tried to see if he'd been unbound from the threats of the promise. He shifted his sight, but there was still a blue thread wrapped around his left hand, trailing off to wherever Fuji likely was. "I still didn't do it right."  
  
Tezuka adjusts his head to the three degree marker, "Then what exactly are you missing?"   
  
Oishi tried to recall the scene, and realized what was different. "We were standing," he said. He wasn't sure if his legs were going to hold him, though.   
  
Tezuka stood and offered Oishi a hand up.   
  
Oishi couldn't help but notice how warm Tezuka's smooth skin was. He was amazed he was still alive - and even more amazed that Tezuka was being cooperative. Then again, Tezuka understood the grave nature of giving someone your word, and the consequences if it was unfulfilled.  
  
That Tezuka did, though sometimes one's word was like a noose around one's neck, always and ever demanding satisfaction. It had only taken once to teach him never to give one's word lightly. He released Oishi's hand as soon as the other angel was standing and waited, nerves twitching with something akin to anticipation.   
  
This time Oishi remembered the way Fuji had been - confident and self-satisfied, sure that he knew what he was doing. Oishi smiled at Tezuka, and before the other could relax, leaned up and caught Tezuka's mouth with his own.   
  
A second later, he forgot what he was doing, and just concentrated on trying to get the stunned Tezuka to respond. His tongue toyed with Tezuka's, brushing against it playfully before running against Tezuka's lower lip. His hands rose from his side to wrap around the older angel's body, and then he found himself grabbing Tezuka in a very inappropriate place - and felt the binding of the promise lift.   
  
Oishi knew he should stop.   
  
Knowing and doing are two different things. Not to mention the fact that it was quite nice to play tonsil hockey with Oishi ... someone he could actually _trust_ versus some _others_ he could name. Tezuka's hand rose to trail along the column of Oishi's throat to cup the other angel's face, shifting to close the distance between them.   
  
Sweet, warm, the taste of -- the binding of Tezuka's promise pulled tight, jerking him back into familiar focus. He broke the kiss, giving Oishi's lips a reluctant parting lick. "Better now?"   
  
Oishi came back to himself, blinking just a bit. "Um, yes..." he said, becoming aware that his body now had other demands. "I think."   
  
If it was in Tezuka's nature to snarl with annoyance, he would. Fuck, fuck, fuck! The noose tightened again, reminding him he was promised elsewhere in these matters and woe be it if he faltered. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh yes, and cursing happens to be a sin, came the little reminder via the voice that sounded disturbingly like Sengoku. Fu -- ark. Mind you, none of this internal storming actually showed on Tezuka's face, "Good."   
  
Oishi decided there was only one thing he could do in this situation. "I'm going to go take a shower." A very, very cold one.   
  


* * *

  
Sunlight was something that Kirihara absolutely hated. It was bright, it was cheerful, and he could feel his epidermis being damaged from fifteen minutes exposure. He wasn't in danger of skin cancer or anything, but the feel of the warmth on his skin made him long for the sunset, when the sky would be properly dark and people would start lurking about and getting in trouble. Crime rates were higher at night, a lovely thing.   
  
Even though he'd voiced his complaints about the weather conditions numerous times, and had his eyes safely shielded by the best pair of sunglasses money could buy (not that he bought them - who would buy them when a five-fingered discount could be applied?), he was sitting in the corner of the school courtyard. It was a lovely grassy area with a few old-growth trees that were worn smooth at the base from having students lean against it as Kirihara was at the moment, thankfully finding a bit of shade.   
  
If Kirihara was hiding in the shade, Sengoku was shamelessly on display in the grass, practically writhing on it as he stretched and squirmed in the sun. Beautiful earth and far too brilliant sun. Sengoku grinned widely as he stared directly at the fiery orb before flopping over, letting it pleasantly bake his back as he moved his grin to Kirihara. "Is there a reason you're hiding over there?"   
  
"Let's think about this. I'm a creature of darkness. I would be cavorting around in the sun... why?" Kirihara asked.   
  
"Sun is fire, fire is burning, burning is hell, hell is the home of demons. Perfectly logical to suck some of it in."   
  
"You make my head hurt," Kirihara whined. "Mind telling me what you wanted to lecture me about today? Or can I just go back to bed and be a normal slacking college student?"   
  
Sengoku grinned. "Focuses. Unless that's too complicated for you today, oh slacking student."   
  
"I have plenty of focus. I know exactly what I want." Kirihara allowed himself a brief moment to imagine the whole world roasting in hell.   
  
"Not focus, _focus_. You know, individuals around whom great things happen?" Sengoku raised an eyebrow of superficial inquiry as he ran his fingers through the grass, as if to comfort it against Kirihara's wishes.   
  
"You mean people of great power and influence?" Kirihara returned. "Corrupt them, corrupt everyone they know?" He smiled a bit. "I seem to recall a serial killer in the United States..."   
  
"Were you born dense or did you get that way through hard work?"   
  
The glare Kirihara gave would have dropped Sengoku dead if he was a mere mortal. The evil eye was a specialty, after all.   
  
Sengoku beamed at him. Immunity to the evil eye happened to be one of his specialties. Wonderful how the dice fall out just so. "Focus as in more than power and influence, mine own. Focus as in around them the _world_ could shift."   
  
Kirihara wasn't following. He knew he didn't look terribly brilliant as he reached up to inch his sunglasses down his nose so he could get an unshaded view of the raving lunatic in front of him. "What in hell are you talking about?"   
  
"Shinji, Moses, Noah, Adam... " Sengoku's head tipped to the side as he added in a musing voice, "I guess you're really too young to know about any of that. It's once in an angelic lifetime sort of stuff."   
  
Kirihara's jaw dropped. "You're saying Shinji is capable of saving humanity?" He tried to think of the drunkard he had seen as a savior, and came up short, unsurprisingly.   
  
Pure amusement appeared in Sengoku's face, "I'm saying that he's a focus."   
  
Kirihara was too wound up to notice Sengoku's usual word games. "Damn it. Why am I wasting time when I could be assuring the destruction of the world?" He jumped to his feet, prepared to show one Ibu Shinji how hopeless and ugly the world was.   
  
"Because one demon means nothing to the destruction of the world. Not even one such as you," Sengoku drawled, as if bored, but beneath it was a sharpness. 

Kirihara's enthusiasm dimmed as he caught the warning. "One demon can have a lot of impact."   
  
"True, true," Sengoku plucked a stem of grass and twirled it idly between his fingers, "But it's all about _timing_. Sure, he's a focus... but the _when_ might not be right yet."   
  
"You're just trying to protect him," Kirihara replied, turning as he settled his sunglasses back on his nose.   
  
"Moses was unbreachable until he was told to speak to the rock, Noah was immune until he drank some wine, and Adam couldn't be touched until God told him not to eat of the fruit."   
  
Sengoku did have a point. "They were free of sin, though. From what I see, Shinji wallows in it."   
  
"See? Already damned. Even the efforts of the beloved Oishi and the balmy Sengoku haven't been enough to rescue him from his wretched state. So why are you running away from my lesson? You've got plenty of time to worry about Shinji later."   
  
Kirihara knew there was a flaw in Sengoku's logic - there always was - but he couldn't find it. "Fine then," he said, turning back to reclaim his position against the tree. "So Shinji's a focus. Apparently there's nothing I can do about it, so why should I care?"   
  
"Because usually a lot of bad things happen when it's time? The lord of hell falls, archangels die, bunch of minions bite the dust. " Sengoku stuck the blade of grass between his teeth and chewed on it. "Most people like to know about that kind of stuff in advance?"   
  
"Lord of hell... falls?" Kirihara blinked. "Fuji's not going to be replaced anytime soon."   
  
"You never know about those kind of things. Satan got axed during the flood, after all."   
  
"Oh, him," Kirihara said dismissively. "I forgot about that."   
  
"How could you _for_ \-- oh, that's right. You're too young."   
  
"Duh. It was a couple thousand years - hey wait. How old are you?" Kirihara had been getting suspicions that Sengoku had been around a while, but the way he talked about Satan made him wonder.   
  
"Older than you?"   
  
"Do you remember Lucifer?" Kirihara asked, a true gauge of age. If Sengoku could recall the first of the devils, then he was positively ancient.   
  
Sengoku smiled that slow smile of his. "I remember his end."   
  
It was like Sengoku had put a sign over his head saying "old bastard! old bastard!" Kirihara was starting to wonder if he'd bit off more than he could chew - but "caution" was a word not in his vocabulary. "Tell me, did Tezuka really stick it to him? Or was it Yukimura? There's a rumor that said Yukimura did it, but didn't want Satan to know since the guy was kinda nuts."   
  
"I dunno, I was kind of fond of him, nuts and all."   
  
"He was a loser," Kirihara proclaimed. 

"Okay, so he was kinda dumb letting Yukimura get the jump on him."   
  
Kirihara sighed. "Anyone who gets taken out by that limp-wristed do-gooder doesn't deserve anything close to respect."   
  
Sengoku looks amused, "Even if he's an archangel?"   
  
"What's so special about them, anyway?"   
  
"They talk directly with God," Sengoku paused, "Oh. And they're stronger than you," he stuck his tongue out at Kirihara in what could only be called childish "nyah nyah."   
  
" _Some_ of us talk directly with God," came the smooth and altogether too bland interjection from Tezuka, who had snapped into existence behind the both of them with not even a drop of 'by your leave.'   
  
Sengoku was on his feet in a split second with an overly cheerful cry of, "Tezuka!!" as he pounced on the archangel with a mighty leap. Well, he would have pounced if Tezuka hadn't stepped to the side at the very last moment, letting Sengoku crash face first into the grass, shoving up vegetation with his nose. This was, naturally, not to be bourn, and Sengoku snapped his arm out to crack into the back of Tezuka's legs.   
  
This too might have been effective if while in falling, Tezuka _hadn't_ adjusted the position of his elbow so that it slammed into the small of Sengoku's back.   
  
"Ahhhh! Tezuka-sama doesn't love me anymore!"   
  
Tezuka was ever so happy to grind his elbow in a little bit more, completely droll, "Yes, you keep those amicable delusions of yours that I loved you in the first place," before calmly getting up and brushing his clothes off with anal precision, as if he did this kind of thing every day.   
  
"So cruel!"   
  
Kirihara blinked once as he stared at the archangel voted by denizens of hell as "most likely to have a pole up his ass." Seeing a familiar look of irritation on Tezuka's face made him inch up his respect for Sengoku's prowess - he'd actually managed to coerce some kind of expression onto the granite visage.   
  
It'd been a couple of centuries since he'd seen Tezuka, and the last time they'd met, things hadn't gone well for Kirihara. There had been a lovely rebellion that Kirihara had fully planned to end with a crushing defeat, but Tezuka had deftly spun it to create a working democracy. Kirihara was still stinging from that one.   
  
"Tezuka-san, how nice to see you here," Kirihara drawled, not even bothering to rise to his feet. "Dare I hope you're here to drag a truant angel back to Heaven?" The sight of Sengoku being ground into the ground was already becoming one of his favorite memories.   
  
Tezuka merely glanced down at Sengoku, who was apparently playing dead, and nudged the other angel with the tip of his foot. "I do not think you will be that lucky."   
  
Nudging provoked the immediate reaction of clinging burr and Sengoku coiled himself around Tezuka's leg with all the speed and dexterity of a snake. Almost, almost, Tezuka's eye twitched as he shook it in hopes of getting the angel to _let go_.

  
Kirihara watched in fascination, amazed at Sengoku's apparent desire to be erased from existence. You just did not do that Tezuka if you wanted to keep your life.   
  
Sengoku _smiled_ and Tezuka actually snapped at him, "Do not even _think_ it."  
  
Sengoku pouted instead. "You take away all my fun."   
  
"Let go of my leg."   
  
"I like it here."   
  
"You bring _shame_ upon the name of archangel. LET GO."   
  
"But my love for this leg is true!"   
  
"OFF." The air snapped with a crack of power and Sengoku made the most woeful face any creature could possibly own before detaching and plopping back to earth with a thump. He made a test sniffle and Tezuka just _glared_ at him.   
  
Kirihara stared at Sengoku, too, before turning and speaking to Tezuka in his calmest, most rational voice. "Please tell me you were joking."   
  
"I never joke," was the calm, if somewhat aggravated reply. Sengoku grinned, since that was somewhat of a joke in and of itself.   
  
Kirihara took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. His smile was amazingly pleasant as he faced Sengoku. "I thought there were four archangels?"   
  
Sengoku beamed at Kirihara as if he were a prize student. "There are!"   
  
"Tezuka, Yukimura, Sanada and Atobe," Kirihara recited faithfully.   
  
"Sanada's not an archangel," Sengoku hummed with near glee.   
  
Kirihara took another breath, and the hiss as it escaped through his teeth was notable. "I have a fucking headache," he said. "If I didn't know you couldn't lie, I'd be laughing my ass off right now." Kirihara's language started to grow more and more foul, making Tezuka flinch a bit on the inside. "You are one of the holiest of holies." He stared at Sengoku like he'd grown a fourth head.   
  
"Actually, no one has been able to figure out why God keeps him around," Tezuka stated calmly. Mind you, he had his suspicions, but it wasn't fit to mention them before demons.   
  
Sengoku flashed a smile at them both and then bounced to his feet so he could make a dramatic pose, hand pointed to the heavens. "I keep telling you, Tezuka honey, it's for comedy relief."   
  
"You are a disgrace."   
  
"I like to call it a special kind of genius."


	7. Places of Higher Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which overdue books are discussed and Atobe does not make an appearance.

There is one place in Heaven that is open to all comers, be they angels or devils. In that place, the metaphysical equivalent of sunlight shines through tall windows, velvet muffles the floors, books fill shelves that run from floor to high ceilings and stretch in every direction into the nearly infinite distance. It also happens to be pretty empty. It would seem, that despite the Hall of Records and History being _The Library,_ the laws of libraries apply. Workers in the back, bookworms between the shelves, and everybody else avoids it like humans avoid the plague. Knowledge? Learning? Who needs that?  
  
Few people realized its true power. _Scientia est potentia._ For those few, they had to deal with the keeper of the keys, one Yanagi Renji, the one angel whom had been personally appointed to keep a watch over exactly what was going on. It was how he and Inui had become... well, not friends, but colleagues.   
  
It was a given that if someone was seeking Yanagi, he would be in The Library. Rumor had it he didn't sleep, but that wouldn't be true. The truth was no one noticed him sleeping since he'd perfected the fine art of sleeping upright, and if his eyes were closed as he snoozed, it made no difference since no one ever saw him with his eyelids open anyway.   
  
The purpose of Inui's visit to The Library did not actually have anything to do with Yanagi per se. Today, it was all about the research. Considering the events that his spy eyes informed him were beginning to unfold, it was high time he consulted The Library's history to gain an accurate portrait of all the beings involved. And if he happened to run across Yanagi ... well ... all the better.   
  
The moment Inui set foot in the library, Yanagi looked up. The alarms he triggered to go off at a frequency only he could hear (since he'd been fitted with a special device because of said alarms) shrilled their warning that Inui was on the premises. Even though he usually let Inui go about his own business, Yanagi made it _his_ business to keep track of what the data demon was up to. By tracking what Inui was researching, he'd found it made it easier to gain a drop on him - though often times Inui would plant misleading trails, and... well, it was a huge head game. Yanagi rather enjoyed it. Inui was one of the few creatures as smart as he was.   
  
Inui slipped between the shelves, admiring the comfortable plush beneath his feet and subdued lighting in spite of himself. The house of knowledge, no matter its holy attachments, was still a thing of admiration. He hadn't caught sight of Yanagi yet when he turned to the shelves and snapped his fingers.   
  
The shelves ground into motion with a rattle and a hiss, sliding along metaphysical grooves to whip past him, stirring the lazy air with the smell of books and speed. As they slowed to a stop, Inui peered into the segment and nodded amicably to himself, reaching out to pluck volume 25,456,342 out of its place so he could flip through it. This one should be close to Tezuka versus Fuji round one. He would need something earlier than that, but this would give him a good place marker.   
  
The whistles Yanagi heard, a faint ringing rather like tinnitus, turned into a shriek that made his brain threaten to pop out of his skull like a piece of bubble gum treated to a sudden influx of air. It was all he could do not to slam his hands to the side of his head and cover his ears for some futile relief. Instead, he forced himself to his feet, deciding that he'd have to try to distract Inui. There was a confidentiality policy in place when the events of the past could influence the events of the future. He didn't know what Inui was looking for exactly, but whatever it was, it boded no good.   
  
Of course it didn't. Inui was demon, he wouldn't be up to anything good. Opening the book, he skimmed down the first couple lines, "Year 1105 -- " Too late. He would have to go farther back. Inui replaced the book and snapped his fingers again, setting the shelves to running on their braces once more.   
  
Yanagi deftly grabbed the brace for the shelf which contained volume 23,367,898 and hopped on top of it, hitching a ride. The eight-foot vantage point was blessedly out of Inui's line of sight, but as the shelf slid to a stop in front of his nemesis, Yanagi couldn’t resist tweaking his rival. "Can I help you find something?" he asked in the most polite of tones.   
  
Inui glanced up only briefly in acknowledgement before returning his attention to the shelf, running his fingers along the spines in search of a likely starting point. His fingers skipped a space and he paused, "Actually, yes, you can. Where's volume 22,400,765?"   
  
"Missing."   
  
"How can there be a volume missing in History?"   
  
"It's before I took over as librarian. There's no records missing since my tenure started," Yanagi said defensively.   
  
Inui adjusted his glasses in a manner that managed to imply that it was all Yanagi's fault, "I am sure... but how did they go missing in the first place?"   
  
"It's Hell's fault," Yanagi said, looking disgruntled. The bookworm in him was seriously annoyed at the incomplete collection. "It goes back to the last heavenly wars. Demons invaded The Library, and a bunch of volumes went missing, usually the pivotal ones."   
  
"Now why would Hell steal mostly pivotal volumes of History?" Inui frowned. It wasn't that demons were all thieves that was getting his brain jumping, he _expected_ that. "That implies an intent."   
  
"It could have been your usual jealousy. Back then, Hell wasn't allowed access to The Library." Yanagi lifted an eyebrow. "What would you have done?"   
  
"Led a raid to take as many volumes as we could get our hands on."   
  
"The problem lies in the fact that since you do have access now, it's a moot point. It would be appreciated if they were returned. I won't even charge you overdue fees." Yanagi gave a faint smile.   
  
"I would be most happy to do the Librarian a favor of that magnitude, but we do not have the missing volumes."   
  
Yanagi sighed and looked disgusted. "You probably do, buried somewhere in some minor demon's attic, but no one's alive who remembers where they hid them. Everyone pretty much got wiped out due to that mess."   
  
"It was... unfortunate." It was a disaster. Everything had been going so well before that, too. God was pissed of at the Earth, the Earth was ignoring God, rain was coming down from Heaven, the Apocalypse was so _close_... and then they _lost_.   
  
"Indeed. But there's always a rainbow. Fuji managed to negotiate you access, after all," Yanagi said sweetly.   
  
Damn rainbows. "This is true, though I would have assumed he would have returned all the missing volumes to you. Unless of course, he forgot."   
  
"He did return the volumes which ended up in his possession. He was bound by a blood promise to," Yanagi said. "Even Fuji's not going to cheat on a blood promise to God over a few books."   
  
Then it was time to search a few forgotten attics in search of the missing volumes. No one said he couldn't read them before returning them, after all. Inui nodded shortly, "This is so. I will make a search for your missing volumes, Renji. We can call it a favor."   
  
"Only if you return them," Yanagi replied. "What are you after specifically, anyway? I might know something about it." Quite true. People tended to tell him things which his eidetic memory never forgot. All told, he was probably the largest font of gossip in the universe.   
  
"In what way Sengoku and Kirihara relate to the current situation. Everyone else makes sense as far as I can determine."   
  
"From what I can tell, there's nothing particularly special about this situation. We're cyclical. Demons rise and fall, but the angels falling out of grace and being redeemed match it. It's really very balanced," Yanagi said. "Sengoku has always been a periphereal player. He likes to be on the edge of the action, but never really involved. Kirihara is merely his newest amusement."   
  
"This confrontation may end up tipping that balance."   
  
"It'll get tipped back," Yanagi said fatalistically. "I don't think we're at Doomsday yet. It hasn't appeared on my calendar, at least." He pulled his planner out of nowhere, and flipped through. "I am concerned about Fuji managing to tempt Tezuka, but with Echizen Nanjirou gone, there's room for a new lord in Hell. Sanada would be named the fourth archangel, and the system would continue."   
  
Inui's notebook snapped open in an instant. Common demonic thought (Hell, common demonic _teaching_!) held that the four were Tezuka, Atobe, Yukimura, and Sanada. If Sanada was _not_ the fourth archangel then that meant that someone _else_ was. "Sanada's the angel of justice... not the archangel. How did we miss that?" he murmured, more to himself, plugging in serial numbers left and right in search of the fourth. Someone old...   
  
Yanagi could not believe he'd made that slip. The slight ringing he was still hearing (which wouldn't go away to Inui was safely out of the library and away from the precious books) must have been too distracting. "Don't you ever talk to Fuji?" he asked superiorly. "He knows who the archangels are."   
  
"You know as well as I that Fuji does not reveal information of that magnitude and has in fact, been perpetuating the general knowledge that Sanada is an archangel." Running out of likely candidates, Inui set the rest of the angelic registry into automatic plug-in and waited patiently for it to complete.   
  
Yanagi shrugged. It'd been something heaven hadn't discouraged - considering who the fourth was. It was... downright embarrassing.   
  
The notebook pinged and Inui checked the equation. Then double-checked. Then stared. "You have got to be kidding me."   
  
Yanagi knew that only one result had popped, and decided to concede the inevitable. "I wish."   
  
"How did _Sengoku_ become an archangel?!" Inui demanded, waving the notebook in disbelief.   
  
"I think you can thank it to seniority. He's _old_ , and if you hang around long enough, you just keep getting promoted. Eventually there was no one older than he was and he got the slot." Yanagi looked down at his feet, which hung around Inui's head.   
  
Inui sighed. "I thought Yukimura was eldest in heaven."   
  
"We _think_ Yukimura is the oldest. We're not quite sure. They're pretty quiet about it. All we know is Tezuka is the youngest of them, and Atobe's not much older than he is."   
  
"This adds a completely different angle to our current situation," Inui mused, reaching up to yank on Yanagi's leg in an attempt to dislodge him.   
  
Yanagi deftly avoided it, managing to kick Inui in the shoulder as he swung his legs to safety on top of the shelf. "Not really. Sengoku hasn't changed. It's merely your perception of him that has."   
  
"Merely in the fact that we have been underestimating an angelic representative." Inui winced at the kick and stepped back, "Not to mention the fact that if Heaven managed to keep _this_ a secret, how many other things are you keeping quietly in the dark?"   
  
"Inui, my esteemed colleague, weren't you ever told that Heaven is the light?"   
  
"Hidden then, in plain sight."   
  
"It's only because people don't choose to see. You can be blinded by the light."   
  
"It's rather lucky that I'm not surrounded by its blinding presence."   
  


* * *

  
Being around a stressed-out Yagyuu was fascinating and at the same time repulsive. For the past week or so, Yagyuu had been helplessly watching expenses skyrocket, and Niou had been stuck with him, unable to go Up There, since their Lord and Master already had dibs on the surface world.   
  
Yagyuu was not stressed out (something he told Niou repeatedly), he was simply irritated by the fact that Fuji had decided to spend _that much money_ on an _expensive_ love hotel, all of which Fuji had _neglected_ to tell him about _before_ he left so he could work it into the budget in a proper and useful fashion by cutting Hellish Gardening by fifty percent for the next fiscal quarter.   
  
Okay, so he was stressed out. Where were they going to get the money for this?! Projects would have the be hacked! Funds would have to be cut! Oh, wait, he could suck some money from Ryoma. Not like _that one_ would need it since he was staying at the temple for free.   
  
Niou was the one bearing the brunt of Yagyuu's ire. Yagyuu, who admittedly was something of a sex addict (something which Niou repeatedly thanked his lucky horns for), had actually turned him down twice. The pacing thing he could deal with, but Yagyuu was starting to mutter figures in his sleep, never a good sign.   
  
It probably wouldn't have been so bad if Niou wasn't so wound up himself, but the restructuring which had seemed like such a fun idea... wasn't. Inui seemed to be preoccupied with something, and Dan was next to useless, which left the weight of the workload on his own sexy shoulders. While Niou was never against work - most of his plans were elaborate contraptions - he _was_ against drudgery. Well, when he was the drudge.   
  
Yagyuu tallied up the account books again (which happened to be scattered across Niou's office by this point, getting intertangled with the paperwork that restructuring always managed to acquire), this time skimming money off of Kirihara's account as well, and still came up with far less than he would need to cover the year's expenses. He slammed the book shut with a glare, _almost_ scowling at Niou. "I would be better off in Heaven."   
  
Niou felt the part of him which would have been his heart faltered. He could not believe things were _that_ bad. "Hiroshi, maybe you should take a vacation."   
  
"Where the fucking clouds are lined with fucking gold," Yagyuu muttered in the general direction of the latest accounting book. He paused, engaging in a oh so pleasant daydream of sending a task force to go and rip some of that gold out to boost Hell's finances.   
  
Niou sighed, feeling his own tension headache threaten to get away from him. "You do realize that nothing horrible will happen if the books aren't balanced. Remember deficit spending?" He grinned. "I seem to recall you subtly influencing a few countries...."   
  
"Which would work fine, Masaharu, if we didn't happen to be living with the demons who we'll be owing. Not to mention _angels_."   
  
"Borrow it from Fuji's account. He's richer than sin, and he's the one spending it in the first place." Niou shrugged. "He'll only torture you for a couple of years for it, worst case scenario. Most likely he'd find it funny."   
  
Yagyuu adjusted his glasses. The idea was frightfully appealing ... if it weren't for the part were he dreaded what Fuji might come up with in terms of punishment, "Some of us aren't that bold."   
  
"There is one other solution," Niou said.   
  
"I'm listening."   
  
"Remember that spam scam I had Touji set up?"   
  
"Yes... "   
  
"Check his bank account."   
  
Yagyuu summoned the necessary book to his hand and flipped to the appropriate page, "You have got to be shitting me." He didn't knock on a good thing though, he just calmly tapped into it and sucked out the cash he needed. 

Niou grinned wickedly. "It's just too bad he did that under direct order on office hours, isn't it?"   
  
"Oh, yes." Now that Hell's little financial difficulty has been cleared up, Yagyuu was in a very _good_ mood. He closed the book up after making a few minor adjustments to the relevant accounting columns after redistributing the cash and stood, walking over to sit on the arm of Niou's chair. "Have I ever told you how brilliant you are?"

Oh yeah, no question that Niou would be getting a blowjob in about 3.5 seconds.   
  
And since it was such a sure thing, the moment Yagyuu was in midmotion to his knees, the door slammed open and Gakuto stormed inside. Yagyuu straightened and adjusted his glasses in annoyance as the demon of pride snapped out with, "Why are you cutting _me_ from Devilish Resources!?"   
  
"It's corporate restructuring," Niou said smoothly. "We've decided that your workload could easily be handled by Jirou, which frees you up for some more challenging tasks."   
  
Manicured hands went to narrow hips as Gakuto Mukahi stared at Niou, "Oh? And what might those be?"   
  
"We need someone to lead orientation." This time the points of Niou's teeth were definitely showing. "You have such a gift with people, I thought you'd be ideal to handle the new arrivals."   
  
If Gakuto could have dropped Niou with a glare, Niou would be dead and twitching like a cockroach on the floor. "You had better be joking."   
  
"Would I joke about such a serious career decision?" Niou gave a smile that resembled a cat who had just stolen three bowls of cream.   
  
"In a hot hellish minute." Gakuto scowled, but realized that there wasn't much he could do about it even if was true. Didn't mean he couldn't complain, though!   
  
Niou laughed, opening his mouth to poke at the redhead again, when the door to his office slammed open again (well, the metaphysical door, but since the concept of hell has already been mentioned, it isn't worth discussing).   
  
Yagyuu adjusted his glasses. "Aren't you supposed to be on Earth, Kirihara?" he asked blandly, idly wondering if the younger demon had realized his account had been cut and rather hoping he _had_.   
  
Kirihara was in horrible shape. His eyes were slightly dilated, and he was breathing like he'd run the entire way down the infamous hellish stairs, instead of doing the sensible thing and teleporting.   
  
Niou recognized, being the perceptive demon that he was, that something had gone wrong. "Hiroshi," he hissed, warning his lover off. "Kirihara, what happened? Are you considering defecting?"   
  
Niou couldn't be blamed for thinking that, really. Kirihara did look like his entire world had been turned upside down, like he'd just had a revelation. Niou's question, though, snapped him out of it, though. "Of course not!" he growled. "Why would I do a stupid thing like that?"   
  
Gakuto tossed his hair, absurdly pleased that someone else was having a hellish day. "Because you're a pansy?"   
  
"I'm not the one who dyes my hair!" Kirihara snapped back.   
  
"I do _not_ dye me hair!!"   
  
"There's no way that's natural. I've seen you in the shower."   
  
"All that does is make you a voyeur," Gakuto turned and posed, "But who can blame you?"   
  
"Blackmail, Gakuto. I told Kikumaru I'd send your picture to Oishi if he didn't... well, it's not any of your business." Kirihara smirked, relaxing.   
  
Sparring with Gakuto seemed to be calming down their little prodigy, even as it riled Gakuto up even more. The merest _mention_ of Kikumaru was enough to send Gakuto through the roof, and Kirihara's hinting that he'd actually done _something which Gakuto didn't know_ made it 100 times worse.   
  
It was simply not to be bourne, not on top of the joke Niou had made out of his job. Gakuto made a flying leap for Kirihara, hands extended to claw, "Why you little brat!"   
  
Gakuto was quick, but Kirihara was meaner. Niou watched with vague amusement as a smile of sheer delight grew on Kirihara's face. It took about ten minutes, and a lot of blood was spilt - most of it Gakuto's - but eventually Kirihara ended up sitting on top of Gakuto's back, a hand in the red hair as he contently rammed Gakuto's head against the floor in 2.7 second intervals.   
  
"Niou-senpai, there was-" BAM! "-something I needed to-" BAM! "-talk to you-" BAM! "-about." Kirihara paused only slightly as he kept acquainting Gakuto's head with the carpet with amazing force.   
  
"What? Oh, you're going to have to clean that... it's so hard to get up."   
  
"I've found bleach effective in removing blood," Kirihara said, the pauses less noticible this time.   
  
The only thing Yagyuu did was make his accounting books lift and float out of the way of the splatter. Gakuto, meanwhile, had had enough, teleporting out of Kirihara's grip with an audible crack -- which might have been his power, or might have been his head. One of the two.   
  
Kirihara hit the floor with a "bump!" and gave a pout which rivaled anything Kikumaru could have produced.   
  
"You were saying, Kirihara?" Yagyuu asked, settling himself on the arm of Niou's chair again. He idly noted that Gakuto hadn't bothered to reappear and decided that the demon had probably thought it wisest to retreat... or was off gathering ammunition.   
  
Kirihara's attention suddenly focused in on Yagyuu, and that made Niou's alerts fire up. Kirihara, when he was paying attention, was a deadly thing. "Yagyuu-senpai, as a former denizen of Heaven, you know who the archangels are, don't you?"   
  
"Of course." A fine eyebrow raised above impenetrable glasses.   
  
"Is there some reason you never saw fit to inform anyone that idiot Sengoku was graced with such a prestigious position?" Kirihara was still perfectly pleasant, but the way his eyebrow was twitching, Niou knew that Yagyuu was two seconds from getting _his_ head pounded into the floor.   
  
Then what Kirihara said processed in Niou's mind, and Niou took a deep breath and counted back from ten (okay, maybe he skipped three numbers, but it was the idea that was important). Turning to Yagyuu, he smiled. "It's a good question, Yagyuu." He sounded pretty calm himself... but his mind was screaming. Hell. Fuck. Shit.   
  
Yagyuu adjusted his glasses again, a gesture of habit and nervousness more than anything else. It was not a pleasant thing to have two powerful demons eyeing one as though one was a platter about to be torn into. Time to play it off as 'no big deal'. "It never occurred to me to inform you. Sengoku Kiyosumi is one of the angels Heaven likes to forget it has."   
  
The problem with dealing with demons was that they had perfect memories - when they chose to. "I seem to recall if there was anything "wrong" with Sengoku," Kirihara said. "You had a perfect chance then."   
  
"You didn't _listen_ to me when I told you not to pay anything of his. Why should I bother filling you in on details like what rank he has?"   
  
"Indeed, Yagyuu, but in the five centuries we've been together, it might have helped _me_ ," Niou said, looking seriously put out.   
  
"If he wasn't as old as he is, he'd be a joke. He _is_ a joke." Yagyuu sighed. Things had been looking up before the interruptions and now _this_.   
  
Niou sighed, too. "But he's got to be powerful, and power corrupts." His eyes lit up as he thought of corrupting an archangel.   
  
Yagyuu almost clenched his teeth, before relaxing. He didn't want Sengoku anywhere _near_ Niou. He didn't want Niou _seeking_ Sengoku out. "That's just it. By heavenly standards, he _is_ corrupt. He should already be fallen. But he's _not_. God, it seems, really likes having a court jester around."   
  
"We don't want him down here, anyway. He's like mildew - you can't get rid of him," Kirihara complained. After finding out _exactly_ how badly Sengoku had played him, all thoughts of damning him has vanished.   
  
No... what Kirihara wanted to do was erase him from existence. He had a feeling some of the angels might even thank him.   
  
"Indeed. He's more trouble to heaven exactly where he is."   
  
"I don't care about that! I want him _obliterated!_ " Kirihara shrieked.   
  
"Someone's bitter," Gakuto hummed, snapping back into existence with a nail file, which he industriously put to work on his fingernails, happily sharpening them into points. "Did Tezuka get the drop on you again?"   
  
Yagyuu's reply was calm, "I doubt attempting to eliminate him would be wise."   
  
Kirihara looked thoughtful at Tezuka's name. "Maybe I should talk to him... thanks, Gakuto!" he said, teleporting out with renewed determination.   
  
"Argh!! He wasn't supposed to like it!" Gakuto wailed, throwing his hands up.   
  
"Now tell me why Tezuka is involved in this?" Niou blinked as he realized that for Sengoku to be an archangel, someone whom he'd thought was one really wasn't. "Is he the one who isn't really an archangel?"   
  
"No, that would be Sanada." Since the cat was already out of the bag, Yagyuu didn't see any point in withholding the minor details of the situation.   
  
Gakuto frowned, "Archangel? Tezuka? Sanada? What'd I miss? What's going on!?"   
  
"Oh, nothing you need to concern yourself about." Niou smiled and glanced at the clock on his desk. "Shouldn't you be going? Our next shipment of damned souls is due in about thirty seconds."   
  
The frivolous tossing about of his existence really pissed the demon of pride off. He snarled briefly at Niou, showing his teeth, "I'll get you for this, Niou," before smiling ever so pleasantly at Yagyuu, tossing his hair back. With that, Gakuto slid out the door in a suave glide, being sure to shake his hips on the way.   
  
Yagyuu glanced at Niou out of the corner of an eye as soon as the door banged shut. "Where were we?"   
  
"I think you were about to give me a blowjob."   
  
"Ah, yes." Yagyuu smirked and walked over to do just that.   
  


* * *

  
Shinji's life had begun to revolve around the bar. The drink was there, Oishi was there, and his nemesis was there. His nemesis. He liked the sound of that. Despite the appearance of bouncing, glittering, barely attired Eiji... Shinji was sure he was pure unadulterated evil in tight pants. Too bad he wasn't here tonight, Shinji had really been hoping to dump his drink down those tight pants.   
  
But no, all he got was the guy with the stick up his ass who liked to sit next to him and nurse _one_ drink all evening. Not to mention that that particular shade of blue in the guy's shirt was beginning to give him a serious case of the twitches. A man shouldn't look that good in blue. It was a heinous attack on his ability to focus on Oishi.   
  
Oishi hadn't been able to look Tezuka in the eye all evening, and he knew exactly why the other angel was there. He'd screwed up very, very badly by catching Fuji's attention, and he knew that it was his own stupid fault that he had embarrassed them both like that. The long, cold shower he'd taken as penance had taken two hours, and he still was feeling hyper-alert to Tezuka's presence.   
  
Tezuka swirled his drink and ignored Shinji's covert glances with the ease of long practice. It was true that he was here because of Oishi (or at least, here to keep Oishi mostly on the path of righteousness, though how it was righteous when he was feeling maybe the tiniest little desire to _kiss_ the other angel again), but half of his mind was most definitely occupied with thoughts of Kirihara. That one was going to be trouble. If not now then at some point and Sengoku was only exasperating the situation.   
  
It was a strange atmosphere between the three. Shinji wasn't talking at the moment, his quiet murmurs lost into the foam of his beer, Tezuka never talked anyway, and Oishi just wanted some time alone to remind himself what good angels were supposed to be like.   
  
All that was needed was one spark, and the powder keg would blow up. Does it really need to be said that the next person who walked in was said spark?   
  
Tezuka knew that power signature anywhere. He took a deliberate and fortifying swallow of his drink before saying in his most calm and even voice, "Good evening, Fuji."   
  
It'd been nearly a century since the two had met face to face, and the slow, lazy way Fuji let his eyes scan Tezuka was overly familiar. Oishi stiffened a bit, but was grateful for the shelter of the bar. He wasn't sure how to react, really.   
  
Apparently "metrosexual" was what the Devil had been thinking when he got dressed. His shoes were shining, and so were his fingernails (probably the result of a manicure), and the semi-casual clothes he wore looked like they'd been run over with an iron. He wore a brown khakis and a button-down shirt, but the stylish vest he had thrown over it was open in a slightly relaxed style. There were no glasses, but shades had been pushed into his hair, which was tied into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck.   
  
Tezuka ignored him through the ease of long practice. Shinji, however, reminded himself not to do something exceptionally stupid, like drool. That would be an unfortunate additive to his beer and might possibly give Oishi the wrong idea. How was it that Oishi had all these exceptionally attractive men flocking to him suddenly? Had he changed his cologne? Shinji gave the air a careful and subtle sniff ... huh, he didn't notice anything different.  
  
Fuji didn't bother taking a seat, but somehow there was nothing awkward about that. "Did you get my message?" he asked sweetly.   
  
"Yes." It paid to be brief and to the point with the lord of hell.   
  
Oishi wondered if anyone would notice if he teleported away.   
  
Fuji glanced over at Oishi, the smile that never left his lips coming into play. "He's a very good messenger, isn't he?"   
  
"Yes." Tezuka swirled his drink in a vaguely contemplative manner, looking up at Oishi over the tops of his glasses, making the other angel nothing more than a strangely appealing blur.   
  
Oishi tried not to squeak. "Tezuka, I'm about to go on break." Okay, maybe it wasn't supposed to be for another hour, but he supposed no one would begrudge him. It wasn't every day you got hassled by the Devil Himself.   
  
"You don't go on a break for an hour, Oishi-san," Shinji observed. No, he was not a stalker. He was just curious, that's all. Just curious!   
  
Oishi stared at Shinji in horror. "I was going to take it a bit early," he said. Why couldn't angels _lie?_ he wondered in despair.   
  
Shinji frowned, "Are they bothering you?" he asked, glancing at the two icons of se -- hateful attackers of Oishi.   
  
"Tezuka is Oishi's best friend, and I know Tezuka very well," Fuji said. "Right, Tezuka?"   
  
"No." Ah, the joys of horrifying and exacting truthfulness. He smirked, just a tiny, tiny bit.   
  
Shinji eyed that smirk with something approaching respect. It took a master to smirk when barely moving your lips. One day he hoped to attain such perfection of subtlety. "Do you know Kikumaru too?" That would be the acid test.   
  
"I know Kikumaru _very_ well," Fuji said. "But I think a lot of people know Eiji." Fuji sighed and looked nostalgic. "Ah, those were the days..."   
  
"I don't like you. Maybe you should go away," Shinji informed Fuji, calmly thumping his beer.   
  
That was so direct and painfully to the point that Tezuka almost, _almost_ smiled.   
  
Fuji blinked in surprise. It was rare someone took a dislike to him. Squinting a bit, he read Shinji's soul, trying to see if he was some kind of holy man. Nope. Just a schmuck who happened to have some weird sort of luck.   
  
Shinji didn't know what he was dealing with, but Fuji was an ally of the enemy. He was automatically painted with the brush of EVIL through pure unadulterated association. And he confirmed that Eiji was a tart. Shinji sniffed primly at that. He had always known.   
  
Tezuka took another sip of his drink. "You heard the man. He does not like you. Perhaps you should leave."   
  
"I guess you want to be alone with Oishi again," Fuji said, a slightly defeated tone in his voice.   
  
Oishi tried his best not to swallow as he was suddenly dragged back into the conversation.   
  
Shinji eyeballed Fuji, under the impression he was talking to him. "Yes. Go away."   
  
"Would you like to get some coffee, then?" Fuji asked, holding a hand out to Shinji. "It would be rude of us to get in the way."   
  
Tezuka sighed quietly to himself, which managed not to even waver his breathing, and counted the seconds to immediate Shinji hatred of the proceedings.   
  
Shinji glowered at the outstretched hand. "I don't want to get coffee with you." Then the rest of the statement filters its way through his brain and he tilted his head to look at Oishi and Tezuka. He didn't _think_ they were a couple... it was Eiji who was hitting on Oishi, after all. Shinji was pretty sure that Tezuka barely counted as an active lifeform, let alone an active threat to him.   
  
"Something else, then?" Fuji looked a bit longingly at Tezuka, making the slightest expression that could be interpreted as unrequitted desire. "I know that the two of them haven't had their hands on each other in a couple of hours, and they're-"   
  
_"Fuji!"_ Oishi exclaimed in horror.   
  
"-probably pretty horny. Tezuka's lips are pretty swollen, and so are Oishi's," Fuji said blithely, ignoring the interruption. "They couldn't keep their hands off of each other last night."   
  
Oishi swallowed, wanting to deny it, but unable to do that stupid thing against lying. Staring at Shinji, Oishi felt a lump of lead settle in his stomach, knowing that the mortal was going to be played quite badly by the Master of Hell.   
  
Tezuka wasn't quite sure what benefit Shinji has in Fuji's game, but anything Fuji wanted was usually bad. Ergo, he should start to intervene. He took another swallow of his drink and slid Fuji a bland glance. "I like how you manage to forget to mention your own involvement in last night's debacle, considering you were there." Where, when, and how need not be specified.   
  
Shinji had been staring at Tezuka and Oishi (specifically their lips, which he would have admired anyway because they were lovely lips in their own right) with suspicion, but Tezuka's sudden addition threw his brain for a loop. A very sordid loop into the nearest sexual gutter where it swam happily with the idea of Oishi and threesome's with sexy gay men. He took a sudden demanding swallow of his beer at the mental addition of himself.   
  
Fuji knew exactly how to corner Tezuka. "It wouldn't have been a problem if you hadn't made it abundantly clear that you preferred Oishi's company to mine." All true. "I didn't even get to lay a _finger_ on you, while Oishi had his hands-" 

_"Fuji!"_ Oishi managed to choke out, for a second time.   
  
"All over your ass. You expect me not to be jealous? You expect Eiji not to react?"   
  
"Considering that you and Eiji are together, I fail to see your difficulty," was the ever so bland reply from Tezuka.   
  
Shinji made an effort to pull his thought facilities from his other head only to lose them again with the thought of Oishi and Oishi's hands on ass.   
  
"Eiji and I haven't slept together in centuries, as you well know." Fuji tried his best to sound like a jealous lover. "I just think that Oishi should have better taste than to sleep with the nearest available body."   
  
Shinji perked up. Really? Oishi slept with the nearest available body? He could be available! Anytime! Anywhere! Just say the word! "Do you really do that, Oishi-san?" There was an almost hopeful note in his voice.   
  
"No!" Oishi objected. "You shouldn't listen to Fuji!"   
  
"Why not? Have I told him anything that wasn't the strictest truth?" Fuji replied, knowing very well he hadn't, and Oishi was caught. "I may have exaggerated a bit about you being a _slut_ , but the fact is, you made out with three people in the last two days."   
  
"All of which could be traced back to being your fault, Fuji," Tezuka commented, observing the last of his drink with apparent idleness.   
  
Shinji riveted onto the fact that Oishi was getting smooched by three people, while his mind happily supplied him with images of Tezuka/Oishi (which seemed to occur on desks with lots of paperwork), Eiji/Oishi (ew, just ew), and Fuji/Oishi (which happened in the back seats of cars). His carefully constructed image of Oishi the Blindingly Perfect and Pure Vessel of Adoration shattered like glass. "Can I have a kiss too, Oishi-san?"   
  
Rock, meet hard place. "Um, Ibu-san, I really don't think that's such a good idea. We're friends, and I'd hate for anything to interfere with our relationship." Oishi tried not to squirm, glancing desperately at the clock which said he had another half an hour before he could take his break.   
  
"So, they _aren't_ your friends?"   
  
"It's a different kind of friend," Oishi hedged desperately. 

"What if I want to be that kind of friend?" Shinji pressed.   
  
"I think he's taken at the moment," Fuji said insidiously.   
  
"No, he's not," Tezuka added.   
  
Fuji played his ace. "Well, you're living with him!"   
  
"Of course." Tezuka remained cool as a cucumber. "Roommates should take care of each other. I would hardly call that taken, though."   
  
Shinji wished _his_ roommate would take care of _him_.   
  
"Well, if you can get sex from your roomie, I guess it's a convenient thing." Fuji made a slight pout. "But you cut off other people who could... like... you," he announced in a voice which was barely above a whisper. "Shinji-kun, how about I treat you to dinner? I know a really good place, and since Tezuka and Oishi can't bear to be parted, maybe we can find some... comfort... in each other." The smile he offered would have turned an eighty-year-old monk on.   
  
Tezuka managed to sound like the master of reason. "You can hardly like me much if you insist of comforting everyone you come across."   
  
Shinji eyed Fuji with only slightly less distaste, though admittedly the idea of possible sex was a great improvement on his vision of Fuji the Most High Evil Associated with Eiji, which had now been upgraded to Fuji the Evil that Might Put Out.   
  
"I have to consol myself some way, don't I?" Fuji walked over to Shinji and draped his arms around the usually depressed mortal. "I have the nicest hotel suite."   
  
Oishi saw the red lights blazing in front of him and knew he had to make a decision. If Shinji got lured into Fuji's clutches, it was Game Over for the angelic side. He opened his mouth to intervene, but was jerked upright by Angelic Law. It was up to Shinji to resist this temptation.   
  
Shinji shifted uncomfortably. He didn't get touched that often and Fuji's touch in particular was making him feel squirmy. In accordance with this feeling, he tried to edge to the side and almost overbalanced his stool, "Why are you living in a hotel?"   
  
"I'm on vacation and decided to look up a few old friends. I was _hoping_ to persuade Tezuka-san to consider a career change, but I think he's too obsessed with his current position." Fuji leaned over and licked Shinji's ear. "We don't need Tezuka and Oishi to have a good time."   
  
"My current position offers a better benefits package than the one you are offering me, Fuji," Tezuka replied.   
  
Shinji shivered. It was enticing. "Okay."   
  
The delighted smile on Fuji's face made Oishi want to cry. He tried to think of some way - any way - to prevent the imminent disaster, but Fuji hustled Shinji out of the bar within thirty seconds of the acceptance, leaving Tezuka and Oishi alone.   
  
"We have a bit of a problem here," Oishi said.   
  
"Yes," Tezuka agreed to the assessment.   
  
Oishi stared at Tezuka's decidedly neutral face, wondering if anything else could go wrong. Murphy's law being what it is, the door swung open ten seconds later, and a red-head wearing pleather bounced through the door to deposit himself on the stool Shinji had just vacated.   
  
Oishi grabbed a bottle of tequilla from behind the bar and chugged it down to brace himself for a long night.


	8. Every Time You Hear a Bell Ring, an Angel Hangs Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which strange alliances are proposed and the Bat Phone is a very important piece of equipment.

Despite what most people believed, there was nothing preventing a devil from entering a church. In fact, there were many angels who actively encouraged Fallen Ones into entering the most sacred of buildings. As Sengoku would have explained if asked (but most people weren't crazy enough to ask him), the evil were the ones who most needed to hear the Word, so what would the point be in trying to keep them from it? 

It didn't mean it was _comfortable_ for the truly sinful to be around. It was rather like standing on overly hot sand in bare feet - bearable, but not anything people enjoyed. It was only through his stubbornness that Kirihara sought Tezuka out on that fine Thursday afternoon.

It was kind of hard to miss the blazing point of demonic power inside a church. Not that it was hard to miss Kirihara on principle, but Tezuka liked to imagine it was more so on what the human's believed was pure, holy, untouchable ground. He glanced to the side as Kirihara slid into the row he was kneeling at and let the glance serve as a question.

Tezuka was someone Kirihara knew primarily through reputation. The archangel was known to be "a pillar of righteousness" among the politer circles (of which hell had none) and a prick with a personality rivaling a slug by everyone else. He weighed his options, and decided the best way to act was straightforward... like always. 

"Want to get rid of Sengoku?"

Tezuka's interest was admittedly peaked by this sort of statement. For multiple reasons, the least of which being he (of all angels) wasn't usually approached by devils interested in removing people. He rose from his kneeling position to sit on the pew instead. "That would depend on what you mean by 'get rid of'."

Kirihara knew that he would have to work carefully. "Get him out of the way. Imagine, life without having your leg molested!"

Tezuka pondered this, "Actually, I can not imagine that."

"Wouldn't your existence be more pleasant? Think of all the people he makes _miserable..._ "

If Kirihara just wanted his help in damning Sengoku, he wouldn't bring up how many people Sengoku makes miserable. Ergo... "What you are suggesting then, is an assassination."

Kirihara looked shock. "I would never ask an angel to be party to assassination!" Then a slight tilt was added to his head. "No, what I wanted was a bit more permanent."

"Complete removal from existence."

"Exactly!" Kirihara beamed, pleased that Tezuka followed his line of thought. Death wasn't permanent enough - that Middle eastern man a few millennia ago had proven _that_. 

"Why should I damn my immortal soul just to remove Sengoku?"

"I don't think it would damn you," Kirihara said. "You'd be acting for the greater good." Gotta love those loopholes.

It did have a certain circular irony that Tezuka could appreciate, though he was of the opinion only he would actually _get_ that circular irony. "And if I said I was not interested?"

"Then I work on using you in my diabolical plan in bringing Sengoku's end."

"Very clever."

"So are you interested?"

"Contrary to your belief, I do not actually want to see Sengoku dead and gone."

Kirihara made a face. "Does your leg secretly enjoy its love affair with him?"

"Yes. Yes it does," Tezuka managed to say that with a completely straight face.

Lightning flashed outside. Kirihara's eyes turned deep red, and he rose to his feet, a truly ominous figure. "On your own head let it be!" he thundered, storming out dramatically... until he tripped right over his feet on the last pew.

Tezuka sighed and settled back down onto his knees. It seemed Kirihara was determined to do himself in again. Oh well. Score one for Heaven.

* * *

Kamio Akira was never a calm person, which was why it was a good thing he was dating Tachibana An. An wasn't a very calm person, either, but by being around her, he spent a lot of time with her older brother, Tachibana Kippei. Any time spent with him was like taking a week at a spa. There was a soothing quality to his presence, similar to soaking in a nice hot spring that just made tension melt away.

There were other reasons he liked dating An. She was cute and fun, and she was always good at making him laugh. He knew plenty of guys were jealous of him for having caught her attention. She was the kind of person who knew when to ground him and when to encourage him to "go full throttle" and it was nice to be around a girl who was independent. She didn't cling to him, but knew when to ask for help. She was, to his mind, perfect. And when they got married - he planned on proposing to her next year on her birthday - he would be marrying into a wonderful family. 

It was the one thing in his life that was going right.

As they sat down to dinner at An's house, a meal which her brother had prepared for the three of them since the Tachibana's parents were currently in Aruba, Kamio tried to let the stress of the day melt away. Tachibana was watching him closely, which meant that he'd probably be asked - in the kindest possible manner - about how things were going with him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to burden him. All in all, his troubles could be summed up through two things: math class and Shinji.

An liked Kamio a lot. He was fiery, persistent, attentive, and best of all: devoted, which was something that pleased An's girlish heart quite a bit. There was nothing quite like having a knight in mostly shining armor ready to ride to your rescue at a moment's notice, even if you sometimes had to restrain him from imprudently sallying forth. 

She was by no means a fool. Not after having grown up in her family with her brother by her side, and she too could see that something was bothering Kamio. An let it pass, though, knowing that Kamio would talk when he wanted to talk, or when her brother got him to talk, whichever came first 

Smiling, she was happy to engage Tachibana in conversation for as long as that circumstance took to occur. Today chosen topic was soft sciences versus hard sciences, and which was more useful in life.

Kamio was a bit lost, frankly. He was - gasp - a Japanese major, and the only reason he was taking anything with math or science in it because it filled the prerequisites. He actually sucked at anything with numbers in it, which was why he planned on becoming an elementary teacher. He figured as long as he could count to 100, he had it made.

When Tachibana asked An (who was not a Japanese major), about what she thought of the statistics course the school had just started offering, he wanted to grind his teeth. He could give them one statistic: another week in his math class and he'd go nuts. 

He didn't quite understand how he'd ended up in a group of the amoral (Sengoku and Saeki), the inflammatory (Kirihara) and the sluttish (Yuuta and Mizuki). All he wanted was a passing grade, which seemed to be slipping further and further out of reach as the days ticked by. Occasionally Tachibana would stop by and throw water onto them, but for the most part, their little circus was just getting more and more outrageous. 

He didn't even notice his chopsticks snap as he thought of them.

An did. She reached out and put a hand on Kamio's arm, looking concerned, "Are you okay, Akira?"

"I'm fine, An-chan." He really, really didn't want to burden her, especially with... that. His sweet An didn't need to know about the perverts that seemed to be stalking his life. 

Tachibana cocked an eyebrow at his sister, nodding a bit for her to pull back. "Akira, I know math class has been trying for you." 

Now that Tachibana had seen fit to intervene, it was like letting loose the floodgates. A furrow appeared on Kamio's brow and his mouth began to twitch. " _Trying_? Is that what you call being forced to work with lunatics who don't care about graduating?"

An patted Kamio's arm before doing as her brother bid and pulling back, giving Kamio space to fume. 

"I do not like being subjected to gay innuendo, let alone outright spit swapping! I think Mizuki and Yuuta would have at each other on our desks if they could! Call me homophobic if you want, but I am disgusted! Kirihara is a raving lunatic, and Sengoku baits him constantly! And Saeki eggs both of them on! Do you know what my chances of passes that class are?" 

"Quite well, I'm your TA," Tachibana said calmly. "I think you need to remember Sakaki-sensei is a fair person who takes things into consideration."

"Really?" Kamio said sarcastically. "Wasn't he the one who failed all of last year's freshman 100 class?"

Tachibana sighed. "Extenuating circumstances, and he was overruled by his department head. Really, Akira, just stay calm and you'll make it through it."

An nodded to this. "Don't let them get to you, Akira. They probably just like watching you explode."

Kamio knew too well that he had a temper. "I try to ignore them, but the fact is they're idiots!"

"Sengoku has the highest average in the class," Tachibana said. "Kirihara, Mizuki and Saeki are all in the top ten." 

Kamio wanted to slam his head against the table, but worried he’d drown in the sukiyaki. "So they're genius slackers! It's not fair for them to pull me down because they're bored!"

"Maybe you could not worry about the class itself and ask one of them to help you after class?" An suggested.

"Why would I want to spend any more time necessary with those..." Kamio started to gripe. 

"I suggest studying with Yuuta," said Tachibana.

"You could make a lot of headway then."

"He's too busy giving head!" Kamio snapped, then turned a brilliant red as he realized exactly who he was speaking to. Clearly his mind was going.

An was very outwardly unperturbed. Inwardly she was giggling to herself at the idea of Yuuta giving someone head. "You could be a positive influence to him."

Kamio was still shocked he had said that in front of his girlfriend - and his girlfriend's _brother_. "I-" 

"Akira, this really isn't what's bothering you, is it?" Tachibana asked in a quiet voice. 

Kamio knew that Tachibana would eventually figure it out, and was a bit relieved. "Well, it's a part of it..." 

"You have a problem with being around Yuuta because he's gay, don't you? Does this have something to do with Shinji?"

Trust Tachibana to see this at its root. "He's still staring at me." Kamio tried not to shudder. He'd been Shinji's best friend since childhood, but since Shinji had tried to kiss him three months ago, he hadn't been comfortable with him. 

"I'm sure he just has a crush on you. It's going to pass," An shook her head. She'd met Shinji once or twice in one of her classes and though he'd struck her as being a bit odd, he was hardly the worst person to have hitting on you. She was of the opinion that given another target for his affections, he would lose interest in Kamio.

"He's been trying my underwear on."

An made a face. "Ew."

"I hear him yelling my name in the shower along with someone named Oishi."

"Oishi? Who's Oishi?" The female mind was ever intent on connecting porn thoughts with real people.

"I don't want to know."

"Well, at least it's not just you he's thinking about."

* * *

Location: Sengoku's Office, a metaphysical portal that was never quite where it should be and had the exceptionally bad habit of following its secretary, Akutsu Jin, around when the angel bounced back and forth between heaven and hell. The aforementioned Jin stretched, flexing considerable muscles as he settled himself back into Sengoku's chair and put his feet up on the archangel's desk. He selected a cigarette from his collection and lit up, taking a long drag as he tipped to the side just so, which allowed him a clear and unobstructed view of the Playboy Pin Up in the back corner. 

It was not by any means an ordinary office. Such things never were. But while Tezuka's might have been the picture of respectability and inscrutability befitting an archangel, Sengoku's was a magpie's nest of what could loosely be defined as junk. There was a perpetual motion ball clicker on the desk, along with a long peacock quill, a pile of cigarette stubs in a ceramic bowl dating back to ancient Greece, a bright red plastic telephone, and a pad of paper that was never used and bore the letterhead "From the Desk of I Forget." Shelves stuffed with all sorts of holy books gathering dust, pornographic magazines of every kind (considerably less dusty), and knickknacks like dogs with heads that bobbled in an invisible wind. 

The clock failed to be on the wall. It was instead on the floor, and was actually a mosaic of the world with a spiral winding out from its center. At the center black point was a label saying "Beginning" and in the amorphous cloud of the back-end of the spiral was the label saying "End." Jin liked to jump up and down on the little moving dot that happened to be marked "Sengoku."

There was also a scale. It was a cute little curlicue of a scale suspended on nothing and usually resided on the shelf behind the desk. Jin ignored this at all costs. This was not because it was cute (Jin had a weakness for cute things), but because it had a habit of groping his ass. How a scale could do this he didn't know, but he had long ago decided that its amorous advances were not welcome. 

Time: Generally unknown, but a tag indicated vaguely before Sengoku's birthday. Mind you, this birthday had been looming ominously for some time, despite the fact that Jin hadn't actually seen a date attached to it. He suspected this was because Sengoku was waiting for him to buy a present. Sengoku would wait a long time for that, he thought with a smirk.

The office was full of all sorts of strange curiosities, but Yanagi Renji, contrary to his nature, was doing his best to keep his eyes square in front of him and ignore what was going on around him. He had heard _tales_ about what happened to the curious in Sengoku's office, and there were even some legends of angels not returning from it (one, Katsuo, was rumored to have gotten lost somewhere among the shelves for three decades - patently untrue, it was only two). Yanagi was always cautious, and while the glaring gray-haired pseudo-angel didn't intimidate him, the aroma of ancient delivery pizza did. He thought it probably came from the 70's. 

Yanagi had been waiting for three days for Sengoku to make an appearance, despite an offer (well, you could call it that) from Akutsu to take a message. After watching Akutsu in action for about two hours, he decided that he'd made the right decision, despite the fact he was cooling his heels in an over-stuffed beanbag chair. He had his laptop, anyway, which kept it from being a total waste of time, though he was starting to worry that he'd run out of batteries before Sengoku would decide to show his super-cheerful face.

Sengoku, on cue with the failure of yet another battery, waltzed into his office, bypassed Yanagi completely and wandering around the desk to poke at the scale with a finger. "Any messages?"

Jin blew some smoke, lifted his legs to check if a message might be hiding underneath and set them back down. "Nope."

Yanagi cleared his throat.

Sengoku tickled the scale with a finger, regarding the little weights sitting on top of it with careful deliberation. All appeared to be in order. He turned and walked past the desk to stare at the blank wall. "Where's the clock?"

Jin smirked at Yanagi. "On the floor."

Yanagi ignored the weird object at his feet that looked like it belonged in a Salvador Dali painting, instead focusing on the angel he sought out. Akutsu's rudeness was to be expected. "Sengoku-san, I need to talk to you-" he started, but was interrupted before he could voice his objective.

Interrupted by the bookcase, which was rattling. Sengoku tapped his foot, making a little ahem noise in the back of his throat. A grandfather clock slowly slid out from behind it and sidled up to its supposed place against the wall. It had more time wheels and swinging bits and little flashing numbers and a spinning roll of names that no clock should have. It was also too big to have actually fit behind the shelf in the first place.

Jin eyeballed it and the clock glinted its glass casing back. There was a deep, abiding, and long burning dislike between the two. Possibly over the scale's love. Sengoku had never been able to figure out how the dislike had started, nor when it had become a full-fledged cold war.

"I don't want to hear who called who names and who jumped on who and who left cigarette butts in whose internal workings." Both parties exchanged glowers once more. 

The clock managed to behave itself, though, as Sengoku bent over and peered into its insides. All seemed to be well. Sweet. The visit had been a success! Time to make an escape before -- he turned and blinked at Yanagi.

Damn. Now they were _waiting_ for him. "Wassup, Yanagi?" Behind him, the clock began to inch away, shooting dark glimmers at Jin and rattling its workings ominously.

Yanagi's expression rivaled anything Tezuka could have produced for lack of reaction. He simple tapped a few notes on his laptop before carefully shutting it, then looking up (though Sengoku couldn't tell, seeing as how Yanagi's eyelids seemed to be melted shut) to evaluate his adversary. "Sengoku-san, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me a little bit about the last War." It was an incredibly stupid way to phrase his question, and Yanagi knew that as soon as the words left his lips. Words, though, could never be taken back.

"Last War? Oh, yanno. Lotsa water, floating survival boat, and a lot of angels bit the dust. Not to mention Yukimura kicked off Satan," Sengoku waved a hand and moved to sit on the edge of the desk.

"I was hoping for a bit of detail on the cause, the raid on the library?" Yanagi was relieved that Sengoku hadn't decided to take him literally and talk about what was happening on the mortal realm, and give him a blow-by-blow account on what was happening there.

Sengoku considered. "Was that the reason? I thought it was the bad seafood."

Sometimes Yanagi wondered if age caused senility in angels as well as mortals. Sengoku was clearly a few slices short of a loaf, and much as he adored Yukimura, the gentle archangel was peculiar as well. "Sengoku-san, I need you to concentrate. The raid on the library. I need you to tell me what you know about it," Yanagi said, speaking the way he would to a child.

Jin smirked as Sengoku idly glanced around at his office, noting that the leaning tower of pizza boxes were getting out of hand again. Thankfully, the hellish minions would take care of that when Jin flipped to the dark side again. "Next to nothing, really," Next to nothing when compared with all that he had seen, heard, and learned over the last couple thousand years. "I was with Tezuka at the time."

Yanagi knew that trying to get Tezuka to share war stories would be like trying to dye Atobe's hair orange. "Ahhhh," he hesitated. If prodded, Sengoku would spout a ton of information, and then the trick was separating the gold from the dross. "Did you maybe happen to hear where the stolen books wound up?"

"Scattered across the hellish winds. Don't think anyone ever had more than a couple at any one time."

"It's impossible to destroy them!" Yanagi knew. Once he'd caught a devil trying his best to get rid of an account of a rather embarrassing incident, but neither fire, freezing, or a paper shredder at Kinko’s had been able to dent it. As far as Yanagi knew, the things were made of the same material used to create heaven's gate.

"I didn't say they were destroyed," Sengoku said evenly enough. "I said they're probably scattered. As in individually separated. As in stuffed in someone's attic somewhere."

"Whose attic?" Yanagi asked. Sengoku knew something, he could just feel it.

Sengoku shrugged, "How would I know?"

"You're an archangel?"

"That just means I know more stuff than you. Not that I know _everything_." He did not, for instance, know the time of the end of the world.

Yanagi opened his mouth to argue, but the back of his right ear started to itch, a sure sign that someone was about to teleport into the place. 

Sure enough, Atobe Keigo himself made a grand entrance, complete with the golden lights and glitter that were expected of someone of his stature, along with the serenade of the finest choir. Never let it be said that Atobe didn't know what style was - flashy, gaudy, eye-catching style, but style just the same. On the opposite end of the scale was Yukimura, who merely slipped through the door while Atobe made a show of himself.

Yanagi rose to his feet, nodded to the three archangels, and bolted for the door. There was no way he wanted to be involved in the upcoming scene.

Sengoku smiled ever so brightly at Atobe. "Well, if it isn't God's messenger boy." He just plain waved at Yukimura.

Atobe sighed and looked pained, but Yukimura seemed genuinely happy to see Sengoku. "Sengoku-san!" he said, waving a hand to his coworker. The smile on his delicate face abruptly turned into a cough as the smoke from Akutsu's cigarette drifted into his face. The coughing fit lasted a long moment, causing his eyes to water, and Atobe was finally forced to pound on the more delicate angel's shoulders in an attempt to help clear his lungs.

"Really, Sengoku, must you let the rabble in here?"

Sengoku ignored him and leaned back to poke Jin in the shoulder, "Yo. Turn on the vents. You're suffocating Yukimura-san."

Jin made every appearance of grumbling, but he reached down to flip a switch of some kind. He too felt the pull of Yukimura's shining sweetness and maybe was just a touch guilty at his pain. The ceiling fan kicked in with a rattle and immediately the room was clear of smoke.

Sengoku beamed happily at Yukimura, still ignoring Atobe. "So what brings you to my humble abode?"

Yukimura smiled his thanks at Akutsu, which made even the gray-haired angel melt a little bit. Akutsu was a sucker for sweet smiles, after all. "Sengoku-san, we're old friends, aren't we?"

"Colleagues at the very least, Yukimura-san old bean."

"Sengoku-san, you know me well enough that I wouldn't be bringing a small problem to you," Yukimura said. Very true. Yukimura had a very Buddhist attitude toward life, and tended to let matters wash right over him until it was nearly too late. Of course, he also had enough gumption to stab the Lord of Hell through the heart with a sharp, pointy object (thus giving rise to all sorts of vampire myths), so he was an interesting character.

"What he wants to say is that your not checking your messages is irresponsible, and we _do_ occasionally need to get in touch with you," Atobe inserted, annoyed that he hadn't been able to speak in the last thirty seconds.

Of course, that wasn't what Yukimura had intended to say at all.

Sengoku scratched his cheek, "Really? I hadn't realized." It was meant as a reply to both questions, though it had to be twisted just a little for Yukimura's slant to slip through 'Speak on.' 

The phone rang. Both Jin and Sengoku ignored it.

Atobe stared pointedly at the phone. 

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

"Maybe I should look into getting you a new secretary. I hear that Kawamura might be available," Atobe suggested.

"You know how hard it is to find good help these days," Sengoku replied urbanely. 

_Ring._

Jin tapped some ash off the end of his cigarette. "You'd be lost without me." 

_Ring._

"Yes. But lo. I hear the batphone!"

Jin happily took the plastic red phone of its plastic red hook, "Sengoku's Office." He looked up. "It's God."

Sengoku gave the phone a mildly curious look. "How's he sound?"

"Like God."

"Tell him I'm not here." Jin hung up. Sengoku refocused on his associates, mainly Yukimura, "Where were we?"

Atobe blinked. Then blinked again. As far as he knew, angels couldn't lie, so it had been God on the other end... and Sengoku and Akutsu had just given him the figurative middle finger. "You... blasphemous..." he started, wondering if murdering a sinning angel would be frowned on. Lightning began to crackle near his fingertips as he prepared to deal divine punishment.

Yukimura knew things were about to get out of hand, and stepped between Atobe and the object of his ire. "Ohhh, this is cute!" he said, picking up a random desk toy - one that resembled a rubber snake - and jiggling it around. "Where'd you get this?"

"From Microsoft! Isn't it cool?" Sengoku was more than happy to lean over the snake, head now bent close to Yukimura's, and coo over the little rubber doohickey.

"It is! Kinda slithery... like a snake!" Yukimura said.

"Here, watch. Poke its stomach and its tongue pops out," Sengoku demonstrated by stabbing a finger into the rubber underbelly of the snake and indeed, out popped a long red tongue with a 'thweee' sound.

Jin scanned the ceilings for God's rebuttal and wondered if Yukimura and Sengoku thought they were actually fooling anyone. A puff of cosmic smoke and a dove fluttered from behind the ceiling fan. Right on time, Jin noted. It settled on the desk and offered its leg to him, where a note was tied. Jin was more than happy to untie the note and read it outloud, "Ahem. 'Sengoku. You are a jackass. Love, God.'" It was only by supreme effort that Jin didn't snicker. For this and this alone, he loved his job.

"That's it?" Atobe looked like he was about to be sick as the lightning at his fingertips died away. He was used to being in God's Loving Presence (reveled in it, in fact), and seeing a minor miracle wasted on stating a known fact was rather deflating. Of course Sengoku was a jackass. But God was wasting time on a wayward angel when he could be... well, saving souls or something?

Yukimura merely smiled. "God works in mysterious ways."

Sengoku nodded to this. "Indeed. None can truly grasp the entirety of His divine plan. This too had a purpose." He poked the quill. "Scribble a note."

The quill rustled itself over to the pad of paper and poised, waiting.

"Dear God. Most high, god of hosts, creator of the world, etc, etc. Jackass is outdated. I prefer the term asshole. Praise, honor, and glory forever and ever, etc, etc. Love, Sengoku." Jin ripped the paper off its pad as the quill flopped back on the desk and rolled it up for the dove to fly off with. Which it did, with great puffing of smoke.

Sengoku beamed. It was good to be back in Heaven. "You had something you needed to tell me, Yukimura-san?"

Yukimura's face instantly became grave. His presence radiated sincere disappointment and personal hurt, like telling a five year old there was no Santa Claus or taking candy from a senior citizen - a horrible, horrible thing had been done, and even Atobe felt guilty, even though it was most assuredly not his fault. "Sengoku-san, I think you've been treating people a bit too carelessly lately." And if Yukimura was actually voicing a concern, it was definitely a problem.

"He's being an asshole, you mean," Atobe said, the course word sounding odd from his cultured lips.

Sengoku blinked with apparent artlessness. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember what happened the last time you really, really annoyed Tezuka?" Yukimura asked.

"What about the last time he annoyed _me?_ I was amazed he could grow that back that quickly," Atobe said, folding his arms across his chest.

Sengoku considered the floor clock. "Hmmm. I do seem to recall that," he looked up at Atobe and flashed a grin, "You're just not tough enough, I guess, messenger boy."

Atobe knew well enough not to argue that he was, in fact, God's right hand and Sengoku was the deluded one. "I'm leaving," he announced. "Just answer your messages, and do it without swearing, or else I'll send Shishido and Ohtori to clean the place up." He smiled cheerfully, imagining what damage Ohtori could do to Sengoku's carefully constructed disarray. Then he flashed out, glitter and gold lights and all.

Sengoku looked not at all perturbed at Atobe's exit, since Jin would be heading to hell soon enough, taking his office safely out of range of the too pure Ohtori. He gestured to a beanbag, the one Yanagi had been occupying previously. "Have a seat, Yukimura-san, and tell me what you mean by Tezuka getting annoyed."

Yukimura cast a look at Akutsu, then shrugged a bit and managed to take the beanbag chair with grace worthy of a yoga master. "He had a rather interesting offer from a young demon who you've been tormenting, and for a second he almost considered taking it, decidedly unlike him. Allying with Hell, I mean."

Jin pulled out some paperclips and endeavored to create a weapon of mass destruction with them. The minute Sengoku left the office, he had a war to wage with the clock, after all. The doings of the holiest of holies held no interest to him.

Sengoku pulled his legs up and folded them beneath him, leaning back a little on the desk. "You know how it is, Seiichi. Occasionally everyone gets tempted by something."

"You also know that the past has a nasty tendency to repeat itself. I'm here as your colleague, telling you that young devil is not-" The sound of the clock ticking closer to Doomsday interrupted Yukimura, who shook his head as he tried to regain his train of thought. "Tezuka is seriously considering the benefits of removing you. He would have a justifiable case - and that demon can justify it from his side. When heaven and hell unite, it means the end. You need to remember what your job is." Yukimura's eyes burned with passion. "You need to remember that there is an importance to this existence, and we don't all exist as your toys." His speech would have been a lot more powerful if he hadn't been playing with the rubber snake as he made it.

"If Tezuka didn't consider the merits of each proposition, he couldn't properly refute them, right? Besides, you can already guess how this will fall: either Kirihara will stay or he'll be removed." Sengoku's eyes idly followed the wriggle of the snake for a long moment before looking up at Yukimura with garden green eyes, "I haven't forgotten. I never forget. It is _my_ world, after all."

"It is _our_ world, Kiyosumi," Yukimura corrected. He rose to his feet slowly, moving to brush a quick, affectionate kiss against Sengoku's cheek. "One of these days, you'll remember that."

It was really no use arguing with the other archangel, so he didn't. Sengoku sighed, reaching out to tuck a lock of paling hair behind Yukimura's ear, remembering when it had once been dark as midnight blue. "Oh, go out and hack something distasteful on Atobe."


End file.
